Say a Little Prayer
by jackiekennedy
Summary: Blond hair, green eyes, cross necklace, and a baby bump: a collection of 100 drabbles/ficlets centering around Quinn Fabray.
1. Immortal

_So here's whats up: I have graciously been given one hundred prompts, therefore challenging me to write one hundred drabbles in response (though they are really more like a crossbreed between drabbles and ficlets). They all center around Quinn Fabray's character in the past, present, and future. I love her complexity, so I hope you enjoy several of my interpretations of her. Shit's about to get real._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Glee. Sad._

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**Immortal**

Quinn Fabray started believing in God when she was four years old.

Her sister had a vintage mermaid Barbie (limited edition) with interchangeable fins and aqua streaked hair. It was a Christmas present, but Quinn had her eyes on it the moment her sister ripped through the wrapping paper. When no one had been looking, Quinn's tiny frame maneuvered into her sister's room and she yanked the beautiful perched doll right off the nightstand.

In a state of absolute merriment, she happily began combing the doll's hair, a pleased grin spreading across her face. Green eyes glanced casually back towards the nightstand, and Quinn immediately spotted another artifact to add to her stolen collection: a glittery pink hair pin. Eyes widening with satisfaction, Quinn gripped the doll with her right hand, her left stretching up towards the elevated cabinet. Balancing on her tiptoes, she scrunched her face, her finger tips wriggling as her right arm swung violently back and forth. Suddenly, a loud thump shattered across the room, and mermaid Barbie flew across the room, the right arm still intact in Quinn's minuscule hands. A horrifying gasp escaped her lips, terrified eyes darting from the fallen Barbie to the single arm resting in her sweaty palms. She blinked for several moments before darting back towards the doll and ungracefully shoving the arm back in. Quinn proceeded to throw it back on top of the nightstand before instantly fleeting the scene.

That night, she slipped into her bed, the covers slightly reaching past her head. With eyes shut closed and lips pursed tight, she began doing what her father always advised to do when troubled: pray. She prayed to God that mermaid Barbie's arm would stay in its socket. She prayed no one would notice its messier appearance, and most of all, she prayed that she wouldn't get into any kind of trouble.

The next morning, Quinn's sister happily joined the rest of the family in the kitchen with an oblivious smile and her mermaid Barbie in hand – both arms and all.

Quinn believes in God because it's not always good luck that gets her by. She believes in God because there has to be something bigger out there watching over her. There's too much trouble and pain in the world for only humans to fix, and Quinn needs to know that no matter how badly she screws up, at least there is one person always on her side.

So as she reluctantly caresses her abdomen, Quinn prays and thanks God he is immortal because she is no where near done making her lifetime of mistakes.

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**Reviews would make you awesome.**


	2. Sway

_Takes place a little before Preggers. How does Quinn really feel about Glee?_

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**Sway**

The rehearsal room is empty because glee practice has been over for the past thirty six minutes. There is nothing but the sound of her pearly white sneakers rubbing against the lemon-scented floor, and Quinn knows this because she is more than positive that she's alone.

She doesn't really get the whole glee thing, but she can't find herself to go home just yet. Her fingers breeze across the stationary instruments, her head unconsciously tipping back as she maneuvers quietly throughout the room. Her eyes lightly close, and before Quinn realizes it, she begins to hum. There is no music, but her body sways to and fro to a melody only she can decipher.

She goes home about seven minutes later. The next morning she has Cheerios, but in the middle of an elevator lift, Quinn reflects on how badly she'd rather be dancing to some cheesy show tune. Even in her head she tries not to admit it, but her right leg quivers, and Coach Sylvester notices.

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**Be a beast and review, por favor! (:**


	3. Sticks and Stones

_Takes place in the seventh grade aka the Origin of Bitchiness. Has Quinn always been a natural at it?  
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**Sticks and Stones**

"Hey, Barry Manilow!" Quinn smirks, her blond ringlets scrunched in a high ponytail. She is the renounced leader of the seventh grade girls, and a gaggle of her followers stand proudly beside her.

Rachel Berry tightens her chest, rotating towards the pronounced Queen Bee. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me," she recites easily.

Quinn rolls her eyes, a snappy comment at hand. However, a flying stick beats her to it. Rachel suddenly yelps, her hands flying to her left arm. "Ouch!"

Noah Puckerman smirks, casually tossing a rock in his right hand. "My bad," he grins. "Just wanted to see if it would work." The school yard teacher suddenly yells his name, and he calmly strolls away from the climatic scene. Quinn watches him for a moment before returning back her attention back to Rachel, a devious smile growing on her lips. "Let's see how you do with rocks."

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**Cool kids review.**


	4. Museum

_Oh, freshman year. What did Quinn seen in Finn back then?  
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**Museum**

It's freshman year, and Quinn's on a class field trip to the Lima Ohio Museum of Agriculture and Farming. She's about two seconds away from dying from boredom when a tuft of messy (yet perfect) brown hair catches her eye. Her radar spots Finn Hudson, the newly appointed varsity football player, quietly examining a complicated machine display. Satisfaction beams in her eyes as she concocts a quick plan. Quinn straightens out her uniform before parting with her fellow Cheerios, giving them a regal goodbye wave.

"Hi," she greets, casually marching towards Finn. They've only had about two conversations before, both unmemorable chats concerning their statuses as the football to Cheerio ratio. Quinn smiles delicately, tilting her head to the side. "I didn't know you were on this trip."

Finn smiles sheepishly. "I forgot to sign up, but the teacher let me go last minute." He pauses and turns slowly towards the glass exhibit. It is an open display of a machinery mixer. "I don't understand how they get corn into corn syrup," he wonders aloud. "Maybe it's fake corn. The syrup isn't even yellow."

Quinn blinks twice but stops when she realizes he's serious. Staring at the display, she bites her lip to hold back a strong cackle. "You're lucky you're cute," Quinn mutters under her breath, folding her arms across her chest.

"What?" Finn glances at her.

"I said let's check out the milk churning exhibit," she smiles too sharply, reaching out for his hand. She pulls him up and lets out a giggle before dragging the both of them across the room. Finn laughs a bit too as he follows her lead, and their fingers lace perfectly together like it was meant to be.

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**Reviews = virtual love.**


	5. Practical

_Taken place during Mash-Up. Quinn wonders about a fashion choice._

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**Practical**

Quinn folds her arms (noticeably above her stomach area) and glares daggers at her open wardrobe. On the far end hangs a pink couture raincoat, dangling innocently off her customized hangers. She scowls, her green eyes narrowing in on the article of clothing. It would be practical of her to bring it, you know, just in case of an emergency. Not because of the slushie wars, Quinn reminds herself, but because it could rain any minute.

She steals a quick peek outside her window and tries to ignore the sunny sky.

She's a practical person, and it's clear through the accomplishments she has so proudly achieved: captain of the Cheerios, Honor Roll member, and girlfriend of the star quarterback. Quinn has a good head on her shoulders, and she knows she would have never gotten by without her excellent intuition.

But should she let one impractical mistake force her down a spiral of ill-fated doom? (Not to mention the curse of the flying slushies).

Her fingers reach out and breeze against the expensive nylon, the touch foreign to her skin. Quinn's used the coat probably once it's whole existence, seeing that she never had a real need for it before. She frowns considerably, eying the waterproof fabric before releasing her grip and shutting her closet closed.

It won't hurt to be impractical for just one more day.

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**Send a little review my way? (:**


	6. Writer's Choice: Thanksgiving

_Woo for cheesy holiday themes! I wrote this on Thanksgiving day, and it's my response to one of the five Writer's Choice prompts. Takes place in between Wheels and Ballads, though I'm not actually quite sure where the holiday falls under real time. Whatever, it will just have to deal! Bahaha. (:  
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_**Writer's Choice: Thanksgiving**

Quinn wakes up a little later than normal, but she quickly springs out of bed when she realizes what today is. Her mind works at full speed as she throws on (yet another) babydoll dress, her hands maneuvering through her nightstand for her favorite comb. The smell of roasting turkey lingers through the cracks of her door, and she smiles pleasantly at the familiar aroma.

Before heading downstairs, she quickly glances at her phone. 13 missed text messages. Quinn pins back her hair as she scrolls through her phone with her other free hand.

Brittney and Santana send a standard "Happy Thanksgiving!" with a sideways smiley face at the end.

Artie greets, "Happy turkey day!" Quinn smiles freely at his cute attempt at originality.

Kurt's says, "Happy gain-10-pounds-after-one-sitting day!" She can't even suppress a giggle at that one.

Mercedes makes her laugh even harder saying, "Happy Thanksgiving, but make sure you don't eat all your feelings away!"

She scrolls through a couple more but stops at Finn's. "Happy Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for you, Quinn... And Cheetos." She reads it a couple of times before scrolling to the last message.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Q. Now you don't have to worry about eating too much and looking fat." Quinn stares at the text for a moment, unsure whether to be insulted or flattered. She holds the phone in her hands, slightly baffled by what to do next.

"Quinn, honey! Are you awake? I've got the pumpkin pie ingredients out!"

Quinn stays silent for a couple of seconds before snapping out of her trance. "Be right there, mom! I'm just looking for an earring!" she yells back, her fingers typing quickly across the cellphone pad. She shuts it briskly before tossing it back on her bed and hurrying downstairs towards the busy kitchen.

Her text reads, "Happy Thanksgiving, Puck. Try not to steal any pumpkins this year."

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**Holiday fics are love... so are reviews. (;**


	7. Speak

_Takes place not too long after Hairography. Inspired by Will/Quinn hugging scene. (':_

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_**Speak**

She can't concentrate on her Spanish test because let's face it: there are more things on her mind than conjugating the word 'to speak'. Quinn rests her cheek in her palm, the depths of her mind drifting off and outside the window. She can see Brittney leaning in from the corner of her eye, but Quinn doesn't even bother snapping at her anymore. She has no energy and no power for this, so she pretends to not notice the Cheerios' lurking attention. Quinn sighs heavily and lets her mind wander a bit more, but suddenly, the school bell rings and she's not even half way done with her paper. The students filter out of the room, and Quinn stays in her seat, waiting for the classroom to empty out.

"Mr. Schu?" she calls out, her voice tinted with apology. "Do you think I can have a little bit more time for my test? I was..." she tries to find the right words, "distracted." She offers no more explanation.

Mr. Schuster looks a bit surprised, but smiles at her and waves off her worries. "Of course, Quinn." His reasons are unsaid, but there are several motives behind his response. Quinn smiles and pushes through the questions, scribbling down answers and filling in bubbles. It takes her about eight minutes total, and when she's done, she hurries up to the teacher's desk and places it gently on the pile. Mr. Schu smiles at her, giving a nod of thanks. Quinn forces a smile back before walking towards the door, books at hand. However, something stops her in her tracks, and her heart thumps loudly. She looks back at her teacher, watching him quietly as he grades last week's papers on Spanish landmarks. He doesn't notice her presence, but Quinn can't let herself leave just yet. She stares at him, her mouth a bit open and eyes a bit hazy. She should say something, anything, but her heart hurts a bit when she thinks about the whole situation with him, his wife, Puck, Finn, everyone. She's involved too many people in it now, and frankly, she doesn't know what to do about it. Her eyes stay outlined on Mr. Schu, and she finds herself unable to look away.

"I'm sorry," Quinn suddenly blurts out.

He glances up, a bit startled she is still there. He's about to tell her that it's no big deal, that with all that she's going through, she deserves a little extra time on a Spanish test. But she looks like she's about to cry, and Will knows that this is something bigger than a simple exam. He frowns, his eyes laced with concern. "For what?" he questions softly, his voice nurturing and paternal.

Quinn opens her mouth, trying to sort out what to say. Does she tell him the truth? Is it over now? Is everything out in the open? But he looks so worried for her that Quinn bites back her tongue, pushing back the tears that are about to fall. "All sorts of things," she mutters and looks down, her voice a bit shameful. She can't say it; she just can't say it.

Will stares at her, his head tilted as her feet shift back and forth. "Quinn-" he starts, but she quickly cuts him off.

"I'm going to be late for class," she swiftly saves herself, brushing her hair back with one hand. "And I have to give a presentation." Quinn turns her back towards his desk and takes a step out the door. She flashes him one more look before hurrying to her next class. Mr. Schu watches her leave and grabs her test on the top of the pile. Scanning through, his eyes land on one particular section. _To speak – __No puedo hablar._

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_**No puedo hablar translates to I can't speak. Review, por favor?**


	8. Over

_Takes place during the end of Throwdown. Quinn's life falls apart.  
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**Over**

It's all over.

The moment Coach Sylvester announces it to the whole club, Quinn feels her world crumble down and all she can do is watch. Finn looks at her, his gaze stunned and tragic, but she doesn't even bother looking back at him. _"Sorry Q. It'll be all over the blogs by this afternoon. Now everybody knows... including me." _Sue's face lacks of emotion, and she gets up to leave without another word. Will looks at the floor, unsure how to display his sympathetic shock.

Mercedes gives her a pitiful look, one that is more sorry than Quinn wants.

Kurt turns his head towards her, his wide eyes shifting like a doe.

Tina stares at her under reddish-orange eyeshadow, a sad frown tracing her lips.

Santana stares harshly at her stomach. Artie looks at his hands. Matt furrows his brow. Brittney tilts her head in confusion. Mike's mouth is slightly open. Rachel should be parading in triumph, but instead, she looks more heartbroken than ever.

Finn finally looks away, staring at an untraceable distance. At the same time, Puck glances quickly at her before looking the other way. He looks back down, then to then instruments, then again to the floor (anything but to look at her).

Quinn breathes heavily, the only sound echoing across the room. She thinks of her life and how she loves everything about it: Cheerios, school, family, Celibacy Club, friends, popularity_. _She thinks of the day it will all disappear, and it hurts to know that the day is coming soon. She thinks of Finn and how worried he looks, and she thinks of Puck how hard he's trying not to look worried. She thinks of her dim future, and where is she supposed go from here? Quinn lets out a gasping breath, and the whole room remains quiet. It's all over.

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**You got to feel for her character. Poor girl.**


	9. White Noise

_This is for sure my longest ficlet/drabble yet! Anyways, takes place after Hairography and the whole Santana/Puck/Quinn mess. An unexpected person offers Quinn some help._

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_**White Noise**

Santana whispers something to another Cheerio, and they burst out in uncontrollable snickers. Quinn won't look back because she doesn't want them to have the satisfaction that their lame tactic worked. She's too tired, physically and emotionally, to retreat to her usual snide comment, so instead, Quinn resorts to rolling her eyes and copying down another equation. Suddenly, Santana's corner of the room immediately rings with obnoxious giggles, and Quinn realizes that she can't take it anymore. She reaches into her pocket and yanks out a counseling pass. "I have to go," she waves it in the air, stopping her math teacher in mid-sentence. Quinn doesn't wait for approval as she grabs her stuff and heads out the door, ignoring the sound of laughter erupting from the classroom.

She received the counseling pass the other day, but Quinn shoved it into the back of her mind without a second thought. It wasn't that she didn't _like_ Ms. Pillsbury; they would just have nothing to talk about. However, there was no way she could last the rest of math class without pulling Santana's hair out, and Quinn already has enough on her plate than adding a month's worth of detention.

She briefly knocks on Ms. Pillsbury's door but enters before there is a response; Quinn doesn't feel like being compliant today. However, Emma greets her with a happy smile, her large fish eyes wide with kindness. "Quinn!" she greets, her hands placed delicately on her desk. "Hi! Please, sit," she gestures to the chair across from her. Quinn follows and dumps her bag on the side, still a bit precarious by the whole situation. Emma's eyes suddenly avert to the pencil holder on her desk, and her hands quickly move to rotate it at a perfect 90 degree angle. She smiles as it shifts exactly into position, her face lighting up in delight. Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Now," Emma begins, her attention back on Quinn. "What would you like to talk about?"

Quinn stares at her. "You sent me the pass yesterday." She hands it over to Ms. Pillsbury as proof.

Emma nods but takes the note politely. "I just wanted you to know my door is always open for you," she insists, her smile still intact. "I know you must be going through a lot Quinn, and it could be too much to handle all at once. So if -"

"Look," Quinn abruptly interrupts. Emma stops, somewhat startled as her lips form a perfect 'o'. "I get it. I'm like Jamie Lynn Spears walking down the hallway. Everyone takes a good look at me thinks I'm Juno Part II. I'm the perfect example for counselors to use to advocate abstinence in high school." Emma tries to object, but Quinn cuts her off. "I get it, and I appreciate you trying to help me out. Really, that's totally nice of you... but it's also unnecessary. I can handle this myself."

She prepares herself to leave but is stopped by the soft sound of Ms. Pillsbury's voice. "Your eyes are puffy. From experience, I know it indicates textbook crying eyes. Your hair is up, which means there is no one you're looking to impress today. I sent that pass yesterday, yet you come today." Emma pauses, a gentle smile still on her lips. "I know you can handle this, Quinn. There's no doubt that you're a strong person. You're so used to being that girl that everyone wants to be. You were invincible. I know it's difficult losing that, but it doesn't mean you have to go through this alone." Quinn glances at her and releases the grip on her bag.

They sit in silence, and Quinn looks down at her hands. Emma sips from a China teacup, her eyes narrowing in a piece of crumpled binder paper. "Sometimes I just want to escape it all," Quinn suddenly says, and Emma looks away from the paper. "There are times when I think everything is going to be okay, and if I push away all my problems then there's nothing to worry about. I pretend that this is just a bad dream, and I'm going to wake up really soon." Quinn pauses. "I let myself believe that this will solve itself, and by doing that I can drown out all the white noise in life."

Emma nods elegantly, placing the teacup down. "I see. And what is this white noise made of?" she inquires tenderly.

Quinn lets out a weak laugh. "Oh, everything. Medical bills, maternity clothes, keeping the baby, giving up the baby, college, back pains, adoption, doctor's appointments, Puck -"

"Puck?" Emma asks in curious surprise.

Quinn is startled by her slip but quickly scrambles to pick herself back up. "He... He's best friends with Finn. He thinks that entitles him to some kind of... decision-making input in all of this." Emma tilts her head. "I don't know. He's weird," she finishes much too quickly.

Ms. Pillsbury stares at her for a second before snapping back to the conversation. "Er- right! Okay. Okay, well, you've got quite a lot on your mind. Here, why don't we make a list -" she pulls out purple pad paper and a matching pen and scribbles down some words. "- and we can tackle this one step at a time. Does that sound good?" Quinn nods quietly, translating silent appreciation towards the counselor. "All right, good. Uh, would you still like me to add Mr. Puckerman to the list?"

It is trivial Quinn says no to avoid raising any more suspicion, but her instinct acts faster and she says "yes."

Either way, Emma tries not to look confused as she writes down the name. Satisfied with the organizational plan, she smiles to herself and clicks the pen shut. "Okay, shall we start at the top? First, medical bills...."

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**I think Emma/Quinn are just adorable. I'm definitely writing another drabble about them, haha. On that note, if you guys have any ships you want me to write, feel free to leave me a review/comment with your request! (:**


	10. Snowfall

_Quinn has a weakness - and she's not as evil as people make her out to be.  
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_**Snowfall**

Her mother doesn't let her out of the house until she has her coat fully on, but Quinn is bouncing with excitement and it's hard to get her to stay still. She's not even out the door but her nose is already pink from the cold, and her mother sighs in amused exasperation. "Quinny, please put your gloves back on. It will be hard explaining to your dance teacher that you can't perform in this year's Nutcracker because you're suffering from frostbite." Quinn only half listens as her mother readjusts her cashmere beanie, and the moment she feels the fabric cover her ears, Quinn flies out the door.

Flakes tickle her cheeks and Quinn spreads out her arms, twirling her six year old self to the rhythm of the snowfall. She hears the laughter of her father and sister throwing snowballs at each other, but she's in her own world and that's enough for her. The white powder swirls, and it's like everything was made to be pure and magical.

A clump of snow suddenly attacks her back, and Quinn finally whips her head around, glancing at her snickering father and sister. Her face remains childlike, her expression beautifully innocent.

They might as well have been laughing at an angel.

But she turns around, and it's like she has forgiven them already.

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**I would always love some feedback! Thank you for reading so far!**


	11. Quitting

_Styled a bit differently, but I actually quite like this one. Enjoy! _

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_**Quitting**_  
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There were three times Quinn wanted to quit the Cheerios and the one time she was forced to.

The first time, she had just joined the team, and the profanity exemplified in their dances greatly conflicted with her religious morals. But she likes the newfound attention she gets, and for the first time, Quinn learns what it's like to feel sexy.

The second time, she gets in fight with the then-captain over some stupid stunt, and it escalates into a full on civil war. Quinn is so flustered and irritated, and she really starts to hate being around so many girls all the time. But Coach Sylvester solves this problem, and Quinn is now the new captain.

The third time, she's gained a few pounds (few meaning one), and she feels as fat as an elephant during practice. How about those wine coolers?

Then that night turns into something more, and several months later, she's off the Cheerios. And all those times she wished she had quit turn into nothing but despair and ash.

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**Thanks for reading!**


	12. Paint

_This one is dedicated to **wanderinghope**. (: Some Finn/Quinn love headed right at ya! Thanks for being such a wonderful reviewer! This is set late freshman/early sophomore year. _

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_**Paint**

Her counselor says she needs to take on another elective (which is bullshit because she could totally be buffing her college application with another AP class) since just one semester of dance won't cut it. "Fine," Quinn sighs, looking more agitated than necessary. "One more semester of dance, then." But the problem is, all the dance classes have been filled up and the only two electives still available are computer art and painting. The latter seems like less of a social suicide, but Quinn is still drawn back by the horror of her situation.

On her first day of Painting 1, she marches into the classroom with a proud stature and pursed lips. Quinn takes a seat in the back, creating an invisible forcefield around her section of the room. As the other students start filing in, they quickly take note of this and move towards the front. Quinn silently pulls out her materials when she notices a figure approaching the seat next to her. She sits back up, ready to tell the freak to back off, but she stops as Finn Hudson plops down cheerfully next to her. "Hey Quinn!" he greets genuinely, his lanky body fitting awkwardly on the small stool.

Quinn squints, an entertained smirk gracing her lips. "I didn't know you were taking this class." She gives him a subtle look as the teacher begins to talk "And I certainly didn't know you were an artist."

Finn grins. "It can't be that hard, right? I mean, I like face painting." His smile widens. "I used to get my face painted like a tiger at the summer carnival every year. Sometimes a bunny." He thinks for a moment. "Once, I got a narwhal."

Quinn laughs, her voice resembling tinkling bells (Finn likes the sound). "You do know we're painting on easels?"

Finn stares at her. "Is that French for cheeks?"

She laughs even louder, both out of amusement and pity. She attempts to carry the conversation, but their teacher beats her to it. "Ms. Fabray, Mr. Hudson, _please. _I'm trying to teach a class here." Quinn suppresses a giggle and gives him a glance. He returns the look with a goofy smile and begins to unpack his materials. Suddenly, he looks back at her, his hands cupped at the side of his mouth. "Hey, when they say watercolor, that's just a joke, right? Because water messes up paper."

Quinn gives him a look and sighs lightly. "You wear a helmet during practice, right?"

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**Aw, I have a soft spot for their early relationship. If you want any pairings (romance, friendship, enemies, etc.), hit me up with a request! Thanks for reading.**


	13. Freak Out

_I can't believe I haven't written any Puck/Quinn yet because they are my OTP! Thanks to **black-stars-x** for pointing that out. These next two ficlets are dedicated to her! (: This is set sometime before Wheels... enjoy!_

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_**Freak Out**

It was about halfway through glee practice when the realization hits her, and a mental freak out starts piecing together in her head. She tries not to look bothered, but as Mr. Schu introduces a complicated turn, her stomach can't take it. Quinn offers a quick excuse and bolts out of the room, her hand flying up to her mouth as soon as the door slams behind her.

Last night, she attended an elegant dinner party hosted by her father's business. It was all nice and fancy, but it is only now that Quinn realizes what happened – she had eaten a shitload of sushi. While getting a sonogram with Finn awhile back, she remembers casually looking through a pamphlet about "Things to Avoid Eating when Pregnant."

Raw fish was right at the top.

Quinn hurries through the halls, a bit unsure as to where her destination should be. She doesn't actually _feel_ like she's going to throw up, but the thought of her stupid mistake is enough to make her want to heave every last bit of that metabolized shellfish.

She heads for the girls' bathroom because it seems like it's her go-to location now. It's thankfully empty, and her hands grip an open sink until her knuckles turn white. Quinn knows that in the reality of the situation, the (her) baby is probably going to be fine, but she can't help but punish herself and grip the sink a little bit tighter. She's not this stupid; she should have remembered something as simple as _Do not eat fish._ Quinn bends over a bit and releases the pressure on her hands, but her face crumples up and she's scared the baby might come out with a dent in her head.

"Huh. This bathroom larger than I remember," a voice perks up.

Quinn quickly whips around, wiping off any trace of vulnerability on her. Puck is standing there, his eyes flickering across the girl's restroom. She rolls her eyes incredibly, her mouth dropped open for a bit more exaggeration. "What are you doing here?"

Puck casually meanders towards her, and she takes a defensive step back. "Thought you would need someone to hold your hair back."

Quinn scoffs. "I'm fine. Now get out of here before someone sees."

Puck waves her off, walking even closer. She doesn't step back. "I've been in here before."

"You're disgusting."

Puck looks at her, and his smirk disappears. She thinks he's going to walk away offended, but instead, his face transforms into a look of absolute concern. They stare at each other for a bit, but he won't take his eyes off her and Quinn has to look away.

"I ate fish," she mumbles, her tone almost broken. "A plate of sushi and shellfish and swordfish... every kind of fish and not once did I stop and think about..." Quinn trails off, and she looks quietly down at the floor.

"It's okay," Puck replies, but he's so soft she thinks it might be her imagination.

"What?"

He shrugs and moves even closer, and there is hardly any space in between them now. "Most women don't even know their pregnant until they're like... four or five months. They do the same stuff they've always been doing and their babies still turn out perfectly normal. My mom went sky jumping with me, and I'm awesome." He grins at her. "You're fine. Don't beat yourself up over some tuna."

Quinn looks a bit flabbergasted, and she shakes her head to hide her impressed surprise. "How do you know all of this?"

He shrugs again. "So I read a couple of pregnancy books." He pauses. "Well, they were kind of boring, and I couldn't make it past the introduction, but they talked about that stuff there." Puck answers honestly, and he pretends to notice something in the corner to hide his embarrassment. "Oh, and don't operate heavy machinery."

Quinn smiles, really smiles, and she bites her lip as she prepares a "thank you," but the bathroom door flies open, and she gasps a little as the two move apart.

Tina stands in the doorway, and Quinn closes her eyes in humiliation. She opens them again and finds Tina still there, a cross between confusion and suspicion rising in her face.

"Oh, look. There's my penny," Puck calls out, and he bends towards the floor to pick it up. He gives a quick smile to Tina as he tosses the coin up, and he flashes Quinn one more satisfied look before heading out the door. Suddenly, it's absolutely quiet, and Quinn is about to explain some elaborate lie when Tina speaks up.

"Mr. S-S-Schuster wanted me t-t-to check on you," she says, and Quinn can tell there's more she wants to say, but Tina holds it back.

"I'm okay," she says slowly, observing Tina's reaction. Tina stares at her for a moment too long, but she nods and leaves the restroom, and Quinn knows she won't say anything. It isn't until Tina is out the door that Quinn looks at the mirror to freshen herself up and notices she has been smiling the whole time.

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**BAH. I love me some Puck/Quinn (Quick?). I just love it when hot people get together in general. Review please!**


	14. Home Alone

_Another Puck/Quinn drabble. They are too adorable to resist. I've always been interested on how their relationship was like before the baby drama, and when I thought about it, I don't think they were ever really friends. Puck would have probably always acted like he is aka douchebag galore, and Quinn would be the Ice Princess. They are a lot of fun to write, so look forward to seeing more of them soon! Like I said, this takes place pre-series, probably right before the show starts._

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_**Home Alone**

"Well, well. What do I owe the honor?"

"I need a ride."

"I thought you had Prince Charming whipped." He smirks because she's probably rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone.

She rolls her eyes because he's probably smirking on the other end of the phone. "He has to pick up his mom before the game."

"So, just you and me then? You know, if you're home alone, I can stop by sooner..."

"Forget it."

"Aw, come on Fabray. I was just teasing."

"You're an idiot."

"An idiot with a car," he sings. There is silence.

"Just be here by six, okay?"

"Anything for you, your majesty."

"You are _so_ -"

"Ah, careful there Virgin Mary. What would Jesus do?"

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**Oh, I love these two. Look forward to some Rachel/Quinn friendship coming up! Other requests and comments would be appreciated. (:**


	15. Turning Point

_I struggled a bit with this one, but hopefully it turned out okay. Takes place after Mash-Up and Quinn's removal from the Cheerios. Oh, and this is dedicated to **Ladybug Jess**.  
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_**Turning Point**

It's 11:40 and the passing bell rings, and the moment Quinn shuts her locker close, her face is greeted with a cherry slushie. Sickly red goop dribbles down her face, and the icy shock momentarily paralyzes her thought process. She feels the vultures circling around her, actively preying at a fallen leader's disposition. Quinn stands there, exposed and assailable, but she can't hear anything except the humiliated thumping of her heart.

She tries to regain the ground under her feet, some sort of response that can save any bit of her Queen Bee integrity. But she's too embarrassed and the unwelcoming insecurity is creeping up on her, but suddenly, someone grabs her arm and Quinn is being whisked from the scene. She closes her eyes and wishes for everything to go away.

When she opens them, the girl's locker room falls in sight. Quinn blinks, slushie chunks still stinging the corners of her eyes, but a towel is handed towards her and she takes it without response. "You can lend me your appreciation later," Rachel Berry announces with a booming voice. "Now you should focus on getting cleaned up."

Quinn nearly chokes but continues to wipe her face with the cloth which has a – surprise, surprise – gold star pattern. "Please, I could have handled it ten times better if you hadn't shoved yourself into the situation," she remarks, pulling pieces of ice from her hairline. "Then again, you do have a habit of sticking your business in things that don't concern you."

"I would be satisfied with a simple 'thank you,'" Rachel states.

"I'm not exactly _thankful_," she quips, tossing her the hand towel back, a cherry red tint now covering the surface.

Rachel fumes, snatching the cloth from the floor. She marches towards Quinn and doesn't even attempt to hide her anger. "Why can't you let anyone be nice to you? I thought we were both mature enough to push aside any confidential matters that bothered us before, but you act as if every act I pursue is horrifyingly selfish."

"You don't get it, do you?" Quinn snaps, her eyes bright with fire. Her face is still freezing, but her temper starts to cool off the ice. "That wasn't supposed to be me getting slushied. That's supposed to be you." She sighs, her fingers and cheeks annoyingly sticky. "Let's face it, Bette Midler. When you graduate here, you get to go to NYU or Juilliards or some fancy preforming school in Los Angeles, but I'll always be the cheerleader who got pregnant in high school. It doesn't matter anymore whether I'm nice to you or not because you've got everything figured out. I make one mistake, and the roles get recast. So it's a bit hard for me not to hate everything that you do."

Quinn still has a couple of minutes to wash up before heading to her next class, and she wants nothing more than to look away from Rachel Berry's overly emotional face. She takes a couple of steps towards the bathroom, but Rachel won't let her turn around without putting in her two cents.

"Maybe so," she begins quietly. "Maybe your life is different and harder now, and maybe you lost a lot of things that you used to love. But that doesn't change the fact that at the end of the day, you still get to be _Quinn Fabray_." There is a little emphasis in her tone, and Quinn stares at her. Her name rolls off with so much hope that she forces herself to look at Rachel more closely. "Maybe that means something else to you now, but it'd still do anything to trade places with you." Rachel hands back the towel, a small smile offered along with it. "Except I'd keep my voice because you can't really hit a lot of the notes I can." Quinn lets out an peeved laugh, but she accepts the towel nonetheless. The bell rings and Rachel leaves, but Quinn now has something that belongs to her.

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**Somewhat of a Quinn/Rachel friendship ficlet? Haha, I promise to have a more friendly one in the future! Thanks for reading!**


	16. Abducted

_Inspired by the "sieges" mentioned in Hairography. Quinn feels like she's being interrogated.  
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**Abduction**

"Ow! You pulled my hair!"

"_Shhh!_" Soft footsteps echo throughout the apartment, followed by jingling keys and a slamming door. A silent moment passes before the women scramble out of the coat closet, panting and breathing heavily.

"Was that really necessary?" Quinn hisses, massaging her scalp.

"I'm not risking anymore suspicion with Will," Terri exclaims. "Yesterday, he saw me trying to scratch an itch under my fake stomach. I had to tell him it was a pregnancy relief tip to use when you're gassy! We need to be more careful."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "And abducting me right after school was far from obvious."

"Okay, Juno," Kendra hushes her, waving a hand in the air. "Enough of your third party input. Give us the scoop."

"Scoop?" Quinn quirks an eyebrow.

"The baby Jesus," Kendra points to her protruding stomach.

"I don't exactly know what you want me to say since nothing has changed from _yesterday_," she snaps, her tone a bit offended.

"Oh. That can't be good," Terri mutters, hands flying to her cheeks.

"No, not to worry," Kendra insists. "When I was pregnant, I learned that having sex during pregnancy decreases back pains and muscle tension. And it makes sure the baby comes out with ten fingers rather than eleven. Princess, go call up your boyfriend."

"What!" Quinn scoffs, her voice enraged. "No! Are you insane? That's not even true!"

"Oh, honey. It's worth a try. And it's not like you can get pregnant again," Terri pushes. "It's like having a 'get out of jail free' card."

Quinn stands up, her face sketched with irritation. "You are crazy. And you - " she points at Kendra, "- how do you even have three kids? Even I know more about babies than both of you combined." She leaves in a huff, her steps filled with viable annoyance.

"You'd think it's a miracle she's pregnant with her panties twisted on so tight," Kendra points out.

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**I have to be honest, I love Kendra and Terri. I think they're pretty hysterical. If you have time, send me some feedback! :)**


	17. Haunted

_Quinn has a bit of a secret fairytale dilemma._

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_**Haunted**

Quinn has an irrational fear of _Peter Pan_.

She thinks it's kind of creepy how some random kid can fly into a nursery and steal the children away overnight. She thinks it's even more creepy that he does so in tights and pointy shoes, and his main enemy is an obsessive adult man with a hook for a hand. Quinn's also pretty sure that there are some hidden drug references throughout the story, and it makes the whole thing a tad more uncomfortable.

What haunts her the most is that she _is_ Wendy Darling. While the fairytale may have irked her childhood self, it frightens Quinn how alike she and Wendy are because they'd give about anything to fly away from the world they're entrapped in. It's even scarier because they both can't seem to do it themselves.

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**Personally, Peter Pan is one of my ultimate favorite stories. I've got some more Quinn/Emma coming up, some Quick, Quinn/Father Issues, and plenty more goody gumdrops. Review and request, if you have the time. (:**


	18. Moonlight

_Quinn reflects on what could be - in more ways than one._

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_**Moonlight**

She thinks that if moonlight made noise, it would be the most beautiful thing she ever heard.

She imagines a piano and a violin harmonizing with the angels and stars. It would be prettier than a music box because this song would be meant for everyone. It would fill up the night sky and the whole world would sing a lullaby to the moon.

The moonlight dips into the window and Puck is lying beside her, and for a moment she fears for her life. But he's quiet and she thinks he can hear the music too, so she settles, feeling safer than she ever thought she could.

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**Much love to Puck/Quinn. Would love some feedback!**


	19. Queue

_Set early Sophomore year. It's not easy herding those Cheerios._

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_**Queue**

When Quinn was in high school, her parents had taken her and her sister on a trip to Europe over the summer. When she came back to school, her status buffered from Quinn the Queen Bee to Quinn the "cultured" Queen Bee.

Her fellow students were envious. She wore extravagant French accessories, paraded her Italian sun-kissed tan, and vowed on a Greek diet that toned her butt and thighs. During Cheerios practice, she incorporated movements from Spanish flamenco dancing into elaborate routines and provided the squad with expensive Swedish power bars.

"All right, everyone. Now let's line up in a queue," Quinn ordered, casually tipping off British slang as she read directions on a piece of instructive paper. Brittney raised her hand. "What now, Brittney?"

"I always get lost when we do letter formations."

"What are you talking about?"

"We're forming a Q, and sometimes I mix that up with a G."

Quinn crumpled the paper and smashed it into her forehead; the whole European thing eventually wore off.

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**Words cannot express how much I love Brittney. She is such a great feel good, comic relief character**.** I know I promised Emma/Quinn, but that will come soon, I promise. Reviews would be lovely!**


	20. Sweet Dreams

_Set in between Hairography and Once Upon a Matress. Quinn discusses baby names under exhausting circumstances._

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_**Sweet Dreams**

"Renee is a good name," Kurt Hummel says off-handedly. "So is Stella. Ophelia. Vegas. Daphne!" He pauses. "No, wait. I got it. _Beige_."

Quinn raises a brow, her lips forming into a smirk. "Beige? Like the _color_ beige?"

"Oh, please. Ginger Spice named her kid Bluebell. If she can pull it off, so can Beige Hudson."

There's more than one thing wrong with that sentence, and Quinn hesitates under the heavy burdens solely cast onto by her. Her eyes flicker towards the auditorium stage where Mr. Schuster is feverishly instructing Rachel and Finn with some difficult dance movements. Rachel completes them perfectly (of course), but Finn fumbles around like an awkward lug. She hears Kurt laugh, one of admiration and longing, but Quinn brushes it off. She has too much to worry about than having to deal with _another_ person yearning after her boyfriend. Perhaps when she gets things more sorted out... perhaps when her head is a little clearer, when she feels she can let herself really think about these things... perhaps then she can deal with –

"Hold the applause. I've got it," Kurt holds his breath for build up. "Aspen Rosemary Hudson."

"That sounds more like a fragrance than a baby," Quinn points out tiredly, rubbing her eyelids.

"Well, I don't hear any of your ideas, tootsie pop," Kurt snaps.

Well, that's because the whole mother thing is still a far reach, but she really doesn't feel like explaining the complications of her life, especially to Kurt. Quinn leans into her chair, hoping the cushions could relieve her oncoming back pain. She feels her exhaustion taking over her body, and her mind slowly starts to tiptoe away. "Maybe Delilah," she responds lightly, letting her eyes fall to her fatigue.

"Yeah, that's great," Kurt mutters. "If you want her to be a Biblical whore."

Quinn wants to act offended, but she smiles instead. The world starts fading away, and with a tired yawn, she mumbles, "You're right. I think I like Caroline better."

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**Had to insert a little Puck/Quinn at the end there. (: Anywhoo, I do think there is great potential for a Quinn/Kurt friendship, despite all the Finn dramalama. By the way, I'm 1/5th done with this series! Oh my. Review if you have the time, por favor.**


	21. Stare

_First off, I want to give a thanks and shout out to a lot of reviewers who have been so consistent and kind. Thank you so, so, so much to **wanderinghope**, **black-stars-x**, **CAS**, **Ladybug Jess**, and **Keikolilo**. I can not express how wonderful you all are, and I am so appreciative of your feedback. Now, as promised, here is some delightful Emma/Quinn. Takes place soon after Puck and Quinn consumate baby Drizzle - Quinn needs someone to confide in._

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**Stare**

Ms. Pillsbury has a really odd face. She kind of looks like those guppies Quinn used to have when she was eight. It's the eyes, she thinks reasonably; they're like staring straight into a bug. It's totally strange and probably unnatural, and the OCD quirk thing makes her whole appearance even weirder.

But right now, Quinn doesn't have anyone else to turn to, and there's only so much a girl can hold in (even if it is Quinn Fabray). She feels like she's doing something wrong as she impatiently waits for the approaching counselor in the emptying hallway. But this case is different, and Quinn can't keep this to herself any longer without exploding. She's afraid if she doesn't alleviate her sin soon, the chances of her accidentally blurting it out would be exceedingly possible.

Ms. Pillsbury rounds the corner, and Quinn cuts her off with a stealthy smile. "Oh, hey Ms. Pillsbury," she greets suddenly, fanning her face with surprise. "Totally didn't see you there. How are you? Your sweater-vest... thing... is super cute. Argyle looks amazing on you."

"Oh, well, thank you, Quinn," Emma replies, somewhat cautious of her student's surprise greeting. It gets quiet for a moment, and Quinn looks like she's trying to say something, but nothing comes out. Ms. Pillsbury smiles politely, but she's really hungry for lunch and she needs to eat consistently at a certain time of day. "Is there something you want to talk about?" she pushes gently, trying to coax out the conversation.

"I..." Quinn starts hesitantly. But she remembers who she is, and despite it all, she can't allow her vulnerability get the best of her. "I have this friend," she changes gears, starting strongly this time. "And she confided with me this secret, but I've never had this happen to me before so I don't know how to help her." She pauses for dramatic effect, even raising her voice to sound more concerned. "She cheated on her boyfriend with someone she really,_ really_ shouldn't have. And it wasn't just a kiss. It was the whole deal. Everything. She gave everything to this boy, and now she doesn't know what to do because she did a bad thing... but it doesn't feel as bad as it's supposed to."

Ms. Pillsbury blinks. "Oh. Well. Um, okay. I see. Well, obviously your friend feels very confused about this whole situation, which is understandable, but it's always important to remember that lying does not make things better. Nor does cheating, for that matter."

"But what if it was God's plan?" Quinn suddenly cries out. She quickly tries to hide her outburst by biting her inner cheek, trying to look somewhat casual.

"God wants teenagers to engage in adulterous intercourse...?"

"God got a virgin pregnant," Quinn huffs. "Clearly, God is showing some favoritism here!" Quinn storms off before Ms. Pillsbury can respond, but she stares at the bundle of furious blond hair bouncing away with her large bug eyes.

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**Thanks for reading! With finals coming up, I might only have time to update with one drabble per day. :( We'll see what happens! Reviews would be appreciated!**


	22. Victory

_Omg. Let's just start out with this - how badass was our girl Quinn last night?! Totally proud of that bamf. In dedication of her regained fierceness, I had to write a drabble about it. Takes place during Once Upon a Matress - Quinn does belong somewhere._

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_**Victory**

When she walks out of Coach Sylvester's office, she realizes several things.

Quinn Fabray is no longer ashamed of glee club.

Quinn Fabray is no longer ashamed of her baby bump.

And for the most part, Quinn Fabray is no longer ashamed of herself.

She used to love her Cheerios uniform. It was firm, strong, and supportive, but she can't wait to get it off because now she can support herself. The thick polyester only suffocates her, so she carefully peels it off in the bathroom stall with as much purpose as she had securing the yearbook picture. It's nothing but a safety net now, and she hangs it over the door without signs of regret.

Quinn slips on a white dress, and it hangs loosely over her stomach. This fails to be a concern as she pushes the stall open, folding out gathering wrinkles. She takes a deep breath and gazes into the mirror, and she can't help be feel like she's finally done something right and she smiles to herself.

At some point Quinn had to make a decision, and though she may have crossed a boundary, she still saved the day. And the fact that she's standing tall is enough reason to celebrate, and there's no where else to go from here but up.

"You look good," Rachel Berry offers, her lips laced with a cautious yet genuine smile.

Quinn glances at her, and to her surprise, she returns the smile. "I feel good."

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**A bit of that requested Rachel/Quinn goodiness friendship at the end there. Thanks for reading, would love a review! :)**


	23. Forgotten

_I want to apologize to **CAS** because she asked me a question a long time ago and I completely forgot to answer. Anyways, she asked if these drabbles would follow the show's events exactly. I'm going to do my best to make these as realistic and canon as possible, so there will probably be no AU situations going on here. Hope that answered your question. :) Anyways! This is a response to the Quinn/father relationship requested by **mademoiselleblair**__. Initially inspired by a scene from Grey's Anatomy; Takes place pre-series, most likely in high school. _

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**Forgotten**

"And then he said to me, 'we might as well be crooks from the 20s!'" An eruption of laughter occurred from the table, elegantly dressed men and women lifting their napkins over their chuckling mouths. Mrs. Fabray playfully pushed her husband's shoulder who was still quite hearty over his successful joke. After gathering themselves, the table continued in good conversation as they exchanged stories of humorous business encounters and lavish vacation trips. Quinn sat in the midst of this dinning setting, politely listening to the anecdotes of her parent's friends. To say she was interested would be a stretch, but as the perfect daughter, obedience was highly expected of her. So Quinn ate quietly as she half-paid attention to some lady discuss the pros and cons of Martha's Vineyard.

"I would just like to announce that my eldest daughter excuses herself for not being present tonight because she recently got engaged," Mr. Fabray interrupted, raising his glass to no one in particular. A few scattered gasps followed by courteous applause emerged from the table, and the Fabrays gave pleasant smiles. "I can't help but reminisce when she was just a little girl. Call me sentimental, but I have this picture of her and me that I just love. Oh, gosh, it's simply beautiful. It's autumn and all the trees in the background are changing colors. We've both got ear muffs on and we're walking hand in hand where - "

"That's me."

The table shifted their attention to the quiet voice. Mr. Fabray looked up in surprise. "What?"

"That's me," Quinn stated, her eyes a bit dim. "That's me in the picture. With the orange and green oak trees and the ear muffs and you're holding my hand and we're walking through park across from Franklin Street. I'm wearing that big puffy red jacket and you have on a ridiculous amount of plaid on. The sun's about ready to go down and the sky is blue and pink and orange, and you can faintly see the moon." She pauses. "That wasn't her in the picture. That was me."

Mrs. Fabray fiddled with her napkin as Mr. Fabray gazed stunned at his youngest daughter. Uncomfortable silence filled the dinning hall, and it wasn't long before Quinn excused herself to the restroom because she had "too many glasses of apple cider to drink." She turned on the faucet in the bathroom and let the water run loudly in hopes of drowing out the thoughts pounding across her head – so that is what it's like to feel forgotten.

It's painful.

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**Reviews are always appreciated. :) Thank you!**


	24. Nosebleed

_Just a day in the life of a feisty nine year old girl.  
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_**Nosebleed**

"Quinn Fabray!"

Quinn looks up innocently at her mother.

"What did you do to that poor Rachel Berry?"

"Nothing," she chirps.

"Really? So you didn't accidentally push her off the swing set and give her a _nosebleed_?"

"It's not my fault she's so clumsy."

"Quinn..."

"I have not done one single mean thing to that girl."

"Good. It would be-"

"Yet."

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**Requests are always lovely. Thanks for reading! And since it's the weekend, I'm updating with two drabbles tonight. :) Look for the other one soon!  
**


	25. Writer's Choice: Disney

_Okay. Before you read this, I am possibly the biggest Disney geek you will ever meet. That being said, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this drabble, probably a lot more than I should have. The original version was also totally longer, but after editing it, I realized how crazy I sounded. Anyways, takes place around Acafellas. Hope you like it!_

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_**Writer's Choice: Disney**

Quinn is forced to babysit some kids from her church's youth program, so she puts on a selection of Disney movies to distract them. (Nothing is more reliable than a good old Disney flick, right?) As she sifts through the titles, she laughs maliciously when she grabs a copy of the _Beauty and the Beast_. Rachel probably thinks she _is _Belle, the misunderstood beauty, but in reality, she's more like that annoying dragon in _Mulan_ who wouldn't shut up. Or that over-pompous cat Marie in _Aristocats_. Or that stupid dog in _Pocahontas_. It doesn't matter; they're all equally and obnoxiously irritating.

As Quinn shuffles through more movies, her mind starts drifting off to glee club. Brittney and Santana would be like the Siamese cats in _Lady and the Tramp_. Or maybe the stepsisters from _Cinderella. _Prettier, obviously, but perhaps just as... exclusive, for the lack of a better word.

Artie would kind of be like Quasimodo from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Not because he's like ghastly ugly or anything, but because they both have the whole "wanting to be normal" thing going on with them being all deformed and stuff.

Kurt kind of reminds her of Lumiere from _Beauty and the Beast_ if he swung the other way (which, while watching the movie, Quinn honestly kind of got that vibe). Mercedes would be like Tinkerbell or Georgette from _Oliver & Company_ because they all got big enough attitudes to suck out the oxygen from the room. Tina would be like Ariel from _The Little Mermaid_ because they both don't talk. (And Quinn always found Ariel to be really odd. Who keeps human memorabilia stored away in a cave? Creep.)

Finn would be like Hercules, of course, or maybe even Simba. Both are likable heroes, and Quinn thinks that is one of the most important trait for any character to have.

Matt and Mike would be something cute-sy, like the Fox and the Hound or Winne the Pooh and Piglet. Or Baloo and Mowgli from _The Jungle Book_. Oh. Baloo and Mowgli is a good one.

But if she was a Disney character, Quinn would be Lady and Puck would be the Tramp because nothing is more predictable than the good girl/bad boy relationship. She sighs and puts the DVDs away because in all honesty, it's pretty bad when a Disney movie can predict your future.

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**Oh man. Definitely one of my favorites I've written. Disney + Glee = personal crack. Thanks for reading! :) PS... 1/4th done with the series! Ahhhh!  
**


	26. Played for a Fool

_Hello, hello, hello! First off, thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews! They really help a lot, and I appreciate them so much! Secondly, I just want to clarify my frequency of updating this story, because I believe I've confused a few people. Lately I've been updating once a day, but some days I update twice. I'm sorry for being so inconsistent, but I get random sparks of muse and sometimes I write more drabbles than planned. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is don't expect just one a day because there might be more! All right, next order of business... I've been watching a few previews and clips for Sectionals and oh my goodness, drama is about to hit the fan, and I'm sososo stoked for this Wednesday (before the deathly hiatus)! All right, now back to the fic. Takes place after Preggers. I've always been a bit disappointed by how they handled Quinn's motives for lying to Finn, so hopefully this little ficlet gives her some justice for her actions. Enjoy!  


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**Played for a Fool**

He stops her by grabbing her arm, but she shakes him off because his touch is too sensitive to her skin. Quinn doesn't know how long she can keep this up, but he is still following her and she can't breathe when he's so near. He's too persistent and it's wearing her down, and the last thing she needs is to be more exposed than she feels.

Puck calls her name again, but she shrugs it off and quickens her pace.

"Quinn. _Stop._"

"No."

He tries to grab her arm again.

"I said no!" Quinn feels her heart beating fast. "I have to meet Finn,"she hurries, trying to push him aside.

Puck frowns. "What, so you can tell him he gets to be Daddy of the Year?" She scowls, but he won't give up. "The only reason you even like him is because he's like a retarded puppy."

"Just drop it, okay?" She sighs irritably. "I have to go."

"Fine. Feed him more lies. That will definitely make you all the big, happy family you dream of."

Quinn starts to turn around, but she doesn't want him to think he's won this battle. She feels her fury bubbling, and she's too confused, angry, and overwhelmed to let herself walk away. "Do you want to know why I'm saying it's Finn's? Why I'm lying?" She stares daggers, her infamous icy glare burning everything in sight. "Because he cares about me. When this all blows up and everyone finds out, he'll still be by my side, no matter what. You say you'll be there for me..." Quinn gives a frail laugh. "Yeah, you'll be there for me... until the next thing in a skirt walks by." She pauses for a moment, and her hands start to feel sweaty. "Finn loves me, and that's enough. He can give me what I need. So I'm lying to him because this baby might as well be his." She feels satisfied with this ending and gives him a look before turning away, her cheer skirt swaying by her thighs.

"It's selfish," Puck mumbles, and Quinn stops in her tracks. "You're going to ruin his life."

She can't help it; she breaks down.

Her face crumples and the tears start to well up because Puck just said everything she's been thinking for the past several weeks. She looks like she's about to heave sobs, but Quinn quickly gathers herself and turns around, concealing any trace of weakness. "I'm giving you a free card out," she whispers, afraid if she talks to her loud, her voice will croak. "Just take it and leave me alone." She finally turns around and leaves, and this time, Puck doesn't follow her.

But the farther she walks, the heavier her steps feel, and suddenly the dams break loose and she bursts into tears, and all Quinn wants is for him to come back and hold her and whisper in her ear that everything will be okay.

It never happens, and she keeps walking.

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**Thanks for reading, lovelies! By the way, I need your opinion on something. I've been circling around the idea of writing a fic about the actual _cast_ of Glee. Not the characters, but the actors and actresses that play them. It would mainly revolve around Mark/Dianna (Quinn/Puck), but I don't have much of the details sorted out. Leave me your opinions if that's something you would be interested in! :)**


	27. Lipstick

_Wow, thank you all so much for the reviews! You guys are great! So, I'm going to readdress the upcoming new glee fic I had in mind. I was going to center it around the actual cast, namely Mark/Dianna, but I was informed that it's not allowed on fanfiction. Well, either way, I've decided to either go on with the cast fic or write a bit of an AU/future glee fic that focuses on the characters as a whole and their trip to a very special place to perform. I'm keeping the place a secret because it will be super fun, and I'm pretty sure if I do the cast fic, I'll incorporate the place in it as well. Anyways, give me your opinion whether you want a cast fic or a glee fic! I'm pretty hyped to write either one, but I probably won't start until after my finals, which is in about two weeks. Thanks for your feedback, loves! Anyways, back to today's drabble. I rewatched Matress recently and I happened to notice something extremely interesting - Kurt was doing Quinn's makeup before the start of the commercial. I was completely fascinated by this and, you know me, had to write a drabble about it! Enjoy. :)_

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**Lipstick**

"You could use a bit of color, you know," Kurt sighs, gently brushing foundation onto Quinn's cheeks. She sits patiently on a folding chair as Kurt maneuvers around her, examining her features like a well-educated artist. "And not just for the commercial. Since you're so pale, you could use a bit more... _sassafrass_ during your daily routines_._" Quinn rolls her eyes and lets out a little sort, but she remains elegant while doing so. Kurt smirks and grabs a separate brush, dusting a bit of light powder over her eyelids. "I'm serious. You're a Summer, so I'm thinking of soft neutrals, like lavender or light blue. That cheerleading uniform you used to wear was so atrocious. Red is definitely not your color."

Quinn shoots him an annoyed glance, but Kurt looks so pleased that she can't stay angry at him for too long. He gingerly smooths out her honey blond hair, spraying down sneaky fly-aways and combing the minimal tangles. She lets him do so, finding herself relaxed under his tender care because it's been awhile that someone has paid so much attention to her (and by her, she does not mean the baby, the baby drama, and the baby daddies). Kurt starts rambling about Kate Bosworth and Sienna Miller and a whole bunch of other "Summers," pointing out how their touch of soft make-up has made them famous. Quinn mutters and nods along, but she's still highly engrossed by his extension of friendship (though neither of them would hardly call it a friendship). Still, it is nice, and she doesn't want it to end quite yet.

"Can you at least let me put some lipstick on you?" He whines abruptly, but Quinn shakes her head.

"I like my look. It's natural," she insists, glancing at the vanity mirror. Everyone is clad in cozy blue pajamas, touching up their appearance here and there. She sees Brittney giggling near Mike and Santana and Mercedes reapplying her lip gloss, but Kurt blocks her from any further observations as he waves another brush in her face. "Besides, lipstick is usually associated with cheap hookers and artificial clowns." She smiles wryly. "It's tacky."

Kurt sighs again, but he chooses not to argue as he goes over one final touch up. "Whatever you say, sugar plum, but you will never know until you try it out."

"I don't want to feel like I'm hiding something," Quinn manages honestly. As Kurt turns around, she thinks that it's the truth, and she's so tired of all these secrets that the closest thing she has to redemption now is her beauty regime. Lipstick leaves traces, even long after wiping it off. It smears and gets all over and then everything is just a big mess, and the stains remain like ghosts of a past incident; there's no escaping it.

Quinn exhales softly and slips out of her chair, but Kurt brushes her shoulder before she goes. "I suppose I'm underestimating you," he hums, the corners of his lips curling. "Pregnancy glow or not, you are Quinn Fabray, and that's got to be in its own category itself. I've been jealous of your complexion since we were eight." He tilts his head. "And your bone structure was absolutely ridiculous for not even hitting adolescence yet."

She doesn't know exactly what to say, but Kurt sends her a knowing smile and she returns it wholly. It doesn't take her long to slide back in the chair and allow Kurt to add a bit more blush, and it's a mutual sense of appreciation shared by the both of them.

When they shoot the commercial, Quinn finds herself occasionally jumping towards Kurt, and they hold hands as they leap across mattresses (though despite being a frail boy, he makes sure he has a tight grip around her waist to avoid any accidents). They laugh and sing and collapse together, and it's in that moment that Quinn decides Kurt Hummel understands her a bit more than everyone else in glee club does.

* * *

**I secretly want Quinn and Kurt to be ultimate besties. They would be a fabulous duo, and I would want nothing more than to bask in the glow of their presence. Thanks for reading! I would love some feedback!**


	28. Pills

_Once again, mucho gracias to the fabulous reviews. You all seriously make my day. Anyways, I know I said I would start a cast/glee character/whatever fic next, but I had a huge train of inspiration hit me and made this oneshot. It centers around Quick, but it's very AU and pretty angsty... but I would love your opinion on it! It's titled "**kiss the stars** **goodnight**"_ _and any kind of feedback would be lovely. Thank you! Now, on to the drabble. Takes place during Vitamin D and focuses on Quinn's thoughts about the Halo/Walking on Sunshine mash-up._

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* * *

_**Pills**

She's not even on anything, but it's the happiest she's felt in awhile.

She's wearing yellow; she can't remember the last time she wore yellow.

Her hair is down; she misses the length.

They are all wearing matching gold flats and shiny headbands. Not once in her life did Quinn Fabray ever think she was going to wear the same article of clothing as Rachel Berry... or Tina Cohen-Chang, for that matter.

Santana is _smiling_, for Christ's sakes. (Quinn does a quick Sign of the Cross.)

All six of them are bouncing around, parading sunshine, love, halos, and whatnot, and Quinn's the only one who has any actual grasp of reality.

But she doesn't want to stop because she loves this dress and her curly hair, so she'll pretend she drank the pills because Quinn likes feeling like a fucking angel, thank you very much. So bring on that hair tossing and cheesy show-clapping.

She's forgotten how much she loves to smile.

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**Sassy yet sentimental. That's our girl. Thanks for reading!**


	29. Lonely Road

_Oh my word. "Sectionals" was just absolutely wonderful. I was near crapping my pants several times, it was that good! Obviously, the whole Finn/Puck/Quinn storyline moments struck huge inspiration in me, as well as the oneshot written by _**_mademoiselleblair. _**_(If you haven't had the chance, read her quick story tilted "Sustain.") I really miss determined!Quinn instead of internally-confused!Quinn_, _so here's a little drabble on my take of her perspective during the beginning of the episode._

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* * *

_**Lonely Road**

"Is it true?"

She can't stand it anymore. Puck's right eye is swelling up and Finn's upper lip is twitching, and it has to end now. She feels the world spinning, and every step she takes makes her heart break even more. "Yes."

Suddenly, she's free.

She's not mad at Rachel; it would be too cliché. If anything, Quinn is grateful for her, but even in her darkest moment, she's not willing to admit that quite yet. Instead, she asks her to leave, but Quinn feels like the gates have opened, and even if her heart just broke in a million little pieces, she has the freedom to put them back. They're like shattered stained glass, beautiful and painful but will look even better once pieced together at the end. And if anything, that's how she feels – beautiful and painful.

Quinn is going to be a good mother.

She says it over in her head, and it doesn't take long for her to believe the words. She'll be smart and wise and compassionate, and no one will worry because she will always take care of her baby girl. When Puck sits next to her, she smiles to herself because she's going to commit the most selfish act she can.

She's going to set him free, too.

There's a difference between having help and needing help. Quinn thinks it's possible for her to take neither; maybe it's the more difficult road, maybe it's a bit lonelier, but maybe it's also the one with the most promise. "I know you don't understand it, but please respect it." As Quinn gets up to walk away, she debates whether to turn around, whether to take one last look at what she might be missing.

But she doesn't want to it to happen like this. Maybe one day, when they don't need each other so much, when they're older and more understanding, then maybe one day they could love each other. They'll just be two normal people, and they won't need so much help existing. Until then, Quinn keeps on walking. She's not entirely sure where she's going to live now, but someday, she hopes she has a white house with a big yard and flowers around the porch.

Yes, flowers would be nice, Quinn thinks as she strokes her stomach. They can grow sunflowers.

It's not such a lonely road after all.

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**Hope you enjoyed it. Look forward to some Artie/Quinn and young Quinn and Quinn/whole glee club in the future! Should be a bit exciting, hopefully.** **:)**


	30. Crawl

_I'm glad everyone enjoyed "Sectionals" as much as I did! On to the drabble... Puck and Quinn go way back... but not in the case that most people think._

* * *

**Crawl**

"Mommy, I want to go _home_," Quinn demands, yanking on her mother's right arm.

Mrs. Fabray sighs irritably, her attention elsewhere. "Quinn, it's your sister's birthday party. Go have fun." She gives her daughter a little push towards the play area, and Quinn stumbles forwards reluctantly, her arms tucked grudgingly across her chest. Seriously, whoever thought Chuck E. Cheese was going to be an appealing place was completely delusional.

Quinn gazes around the indoor playground with disgust, and the moment she sees her father, she rushes over and clings to his leg. "Daddy, I'm tired," Quinn whines, rubbing her eyes with exaggeration. However, he's got a cellphone flipped open and unsuccessfully tries to pat his daughter on the head.

"Uh, go play in those tubes, sweetheart," he mumbles, trying to figure out how to work his phone.

Quinn's eyes widen with exasperation. "There's _germs_ in there," she points out harshly, her hands flying to her hips. But her father has long lost attention, and Quinn pouts as she sulks away, trying to find someone else to complain to. A group of kids run past her, their fingers sticky from globs of cotton candy, and Quinn internally gags at the sight. Even at seven (and a half) years old, she's pretty much got her priorities straight. Suddenly, she feels something fuzzy collide with the back of her legs, and Quinn swiftly turns around, her defense on high.

"Well, hello little girl!" Quinn stares. "I'm Chuck E. Cheese!"

"You look like a dirty rat," she responds smugly, her tone smeared with ruthlessness. "Chuck E. Cheese" mutters something a tad inappropriate underneath his suit before he marches away, and Quinn watches him in agitation. When did rats get so big?

She wants to look her sister and force her to take her home, but the place is way too big to find anything. Quinn walks around a bit more, feeling extra cautious as she smooths down her Sunday dress and avoids gaggles of sugar-crazed children. She's half-anxious that a pile of rats will appear out of the blue, but suddenly, she comes in contact with one of the most fantastic structures she has ever seen in her life.

It's a large jungle gym with an assortment of rainbow-colored tubes interlocking at all ends. She is suddenly drawn to it as her feet float past the crowds, and her tiny frame crawls into an orange pathway. Once inside, Quinn becomes overwhelmed at the spectrum of colors that overtake her body. She sees pink on her right and yellow on her left, and as she crawls further, the colors change to purple and red and blue and green.

She spots a dark end of the tunnel, and as she moves closer, she recognizes the figure of slide. Already feeling like a daredevil, Quinn quickly pushes her way through and positions her body to slide down gracefully. A variety of colors speed past her, and as she looks down at her exit, her eyes suddenly fills with fear and she collides with her fate before she has time to react.

A multitude of colorful balls serves as her landing point, and Quinn flails her arms in fright. Colors are everywhere, pushing her down and disguising her existence. She feels like she's drowning and she tries to scream, but she is in such a frenzy that nothing sounds coordinated. Quinn tries popping herself up, but the toy balls have her trapped and she thinks she's seconds away to dying (she quickly prays to God that he allows her into heaven).

Suddenly, her weight is shifted and she feels someone snatch her arm, and before she knows it, she's messily extracted from the ball pit. Quinn breathes in heavily, brushing back the hair in her face as she tries to gather her anxiety.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" She stares at the voice, the one coming from her rescuer. He has short brown hair and greenish-gray eyes, but he's tall and looking down at her with a proud smirk. "You were going to die. I just saved your life."

Quinn doesn't like the tone of his voice, so she cocks her hip and rolls her eyes. "No, you didn't."

"Yeah, I did! Now you have to be my slave and do everything I say."

Quinn stomps her foot. "I will not!"

"You have to. It's the rules."

"Well, I don't like that rule. It's silly."

"You're stupid!"

Quinn gasps, and her eyes glow with fire. "You said a bad word!"

"Bad words don't exist."

"Spell exist!"

The shouting match continues and both switch off between disputing and staring each other down.

"Noah Puckerman!" a woman finally calls, her voice agitated and tired.

"Whaaaaaat?" the boy drones.

"I have been calling your name for the past five minutes. Hurry up, they are going to cut the cake."

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Noah responds loudly, his arms waving in annoyance.

"Try not to choke on your cake," Quinn snaps at him.

"Try not to drown!" he yells back before running towards the other side of the room.

Quinn reconvenes with her family moments later, her face flustered and irritated. Her sister is smiley and joyful, but Quinn sticks her tongue at her when no one is looking. "So, Quinny, did you have a good time?" her mother finally asks as they walk out of the building.

"I almost _died_," she cries out. "We should have gone to church instead."

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**Young Puck and Quinn? Adorable, obviously. Thanks for reading!**


	31. Massage

_GLEE WITHDRAWAL HAS INITIATED. Not good. Anyways, I should be studying for my finals but shhhhhh. Takes place during the beginning of Ballad. Quinn is not used to impromptu acts of kindness, especially from Artie Abrams._

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* * *

_**Massage**

Quinn massages the back of her neck, stroking out the muscle tension with the tips of her fingers. Finding a comfortable position to sleep in last night was near impossible, fantastic thanks to her slightly protruding baby bump. After a good two hours of clamoring around, Quinn finally shifted to a very odd position in which her neck twisted in ways that should not be twisted. The next morning, she was hastily awoken with the consequences and now she can't turn her head more than 30 degrees.

The sacrifices she makes.

"Hi Quinn."

A squeaky noise follows, the sound of fresh tires rubbing against the shiny panel floor. Quinn glances down from her locker, retrieving a pair of well-kept English textbooks. Artie is smiling up at her, his glasses slightly tipping off his nose. She's pretty sure this is the first time they've spoken outside of glee club (one-on-one nonetheless), but he looks so upbeat that it's hard to stifle her smile. "Hey," she greets nonchalantly, turning back to close her locker. She's not sure how comfortable she feels about Artie seeing her smile, but none of this fazes him.

"I was wondering if you were busy after school. Maybe we could practice? For our ballad." He's talking faster than usual, but he can't help it; it's the closest he'll ever get to asking someone like Quinn Fabray out. "I have an extra bag of pretzels for lunch too, so we don't have to worry about snacks."

"I..." She begins, unsure how to phrase this delicately. It's not that Quinn doesn't like Artie, because she does. He's a nice enough guy and he even took the time out to help her during the "Proud Mary" routine, but singing a ballad with him is definitely the last thing on her mind right now. But he looks like a happy puppy, so she faces her locker once more to avoid looking at his goofy grin. "I'm going to have to take a rain check. My neck is just killing me, and I've kind of have a lot going on right now, so... maybe some other time." They both know it's a false promise.

She doesn't look at his expression, and there's a pause before he speaks again. "Oh, right! Sure. I totally understand, you know, with all your baby stuff going on and having to pee all the time. It would be difficult and too much to ask of you. I'm sure Mr. Schu will understand." He tries not to sound disappointed, but he's horrible at lying (Quinn could give him a few lessons). She caves in and gazes down at him, but he still has on that signature smile, and her heart bends. "I think he's still in the room, so I'll let him know." He rolls away without another word, and Quinn feels like she should say something _nice_, but there are other people in the hallway and she's not sure she can call out to him like that. But as he turns the corner by himself, it's one of the loneliest sights she's ever seen.

The next day, she heads to the choir room for glee rehearsal, and she notices a wrapped object on top of her usual seat. Quinn drops her bags and picks up the gift, cautiously peeling off the wrapping paper. The others start filing in and she hears some of Kurt's ramblings, but Quinn is too busy staring bewildered at the opened present before her. Her hands graze across a light pink neck pillow, the material soft like a baby's blanket. She holds it in shock when the sound of familiar squeaking rolls in. Quinn looks over at Artie, and he grins at her.

She smiles back.

He rolls over to join Mercedes and Kurt's conversation.

Quinn likes it when he doesn't look too lonely.

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**Aside from Quinn, Artie is my favorite character. I feel like if anyone took the time to really understand Quinn, it would be ya boy. Plus, I thought it was adorable when he was singing "Lean on Me" to her... and Finn, but that's irrelavent haha. (AND STILL A BIT BITTER OVER NO QUINN/ARTIE SONG BUT WHATEVS.) Thanks for reading!**


	32. Power

_Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate those of you who have been reviewing for every chapter; seriously, it totally makes my day that someone is actually reading all the nonsense going on in my head. It's virtual love. Anyways, takes place during the reign of Queen Quinn; our favorite girl thrives on power._

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* * *

_**Power**

Rule #1 of Cheerios: You don't try out for the team. The team recruits you.

It's an implied part of Quinn's job to scout for talent, but she exercises this role subtly as possible. Her watchful eye always comes off as indifferent, and she's a pro at masking her detailed observations.

So it was rather an amusing surprise when that scrawny freshman girl had asked to audition to be on the squad.

Santana scrunched her face. "There are _no_ - "

"Let's see what you got," Quinn cut her off, a dangerously innocent smile dangling from her lips.

The freshman beamed and as they all settled into the gym, Quinn turned on the music. A series of dance moves followed: back flip, another back flip, toe touch, hurdle, toe touch, front handspring, pike, double toe touch, splits, la dee da dee da.

The music ended, and the freshman's deep panting was the only noise filling the large gymnasium.

Quinn got up, one hand on her hip, the other stifling a yawn. "Well, wasn't that refreshingly anti-climatic." She narrowed her eyes, and the freshman's smile faded from her face. "I'm leaving now." A throng of Cheerios trailed their leader's exit, giggling and whispering over the unfortunate scene.

The poor freshman got slushied every day for the following two months, courtesy of a request by a certain cheer captain.

Rule #2 of Cheerios: Never underestimate Quinn Fabray.

* * *

**Hmm. Ending has a bit of a double meaning, doesn't it? Thanks for reading! By the way, an update on my thoughts concerning the new fic I had been talking about - I sort of scratched the idea, but I'm really looking to do an actual plot-based, multi-chapter glee fic, but I'm not sure about what just yet. I'm kind of circling around the idea of something Puck centric (or maybe a Puck oneshot plus the glee fic), but I really don't know yet. Bah. The decisions. I should be studying for finals, but I'd love for you to drop a review if you have the time!**


	33. Layers

_Really, really should be studying for finals... but mehhhhh. Anyways, I present to you a very pointless vignette. I don't know how I feel about this one because I like my drabbles to have some meaning, but this one is just all over the place. Ah, I'll just see how it turns out. Spans from pre-series to Hairography._

* * *

**Layers**

The truth is, Quinn and Puck are kind of like friends who are not.

They run in the same social circle. Quinn is friends with Finn who is friends with Puck which, essentially, makes Quinn and Puck friends by default.

Except not really.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Gonna go hit mailboxes." He twirls a baseball bat.

"You're barbaric."

"Wanna see it firsthand?" He smirks at her.

The truth is, Quinn and Puck are kind of like lovers who are not.

It hurts at first, but he slows down because he knows this is her first time. He plants small kisses on her neck and holds her as gently as he can, trying to synchronize their breathing patterns. She reminds him of one of those porcelain dolls his sister collects, the really delicate ones that his mom won't let him touch.

He doesn't want to break her.

She'll regret it tomorrow, but for now, she likes that he's calling her beautiful and she tells him not to stop. Everyone wants to feel beautiful.

"Who's your sixth degree?" Santana asks the next day.

Quinn blinks out of her trance. "What?"

"Who's your sixth degree," she repeats, agitated this time. "You know, that person you're connected to through six people. Mine is Brad Pitt."

She likes that rule – there are too many people in this world who irritate her, so it's a safe feeling knowing that she can be separated from everyone by six people.

So why is there only one degree between her and Puck?

The truth is, Quinn and Puck are kind of like parents who are not.

"What does Finn even have that I don't?" he demands one day.

"He has me."

"What if I want you?"

"You can't have me."

"Why not?"

_Because I'm scared of you, _she thinks.

Little by little, she lets him, but he's too optimistic about the whole scenario.

"Do you think she'll have blond hair or -"

"Don't."

"What?"

"Don't imagine her. She's not ours to imagine."

"She could be ours."

_You're making this too difficult,_ she thinks.

He eventually screws it up and her decision is made. She's relieved and heartbroken at the same time, _but how did that happen? s_he wonders.

Quinn and Puck are not a lot of things, but they are _something_. She closes her eyes and pretends she doesn't care. Puck does the same.

The truth is, Quinn and Puck are liars.

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**Hmm. I'd really like feedback for this one, if you have the time. I'm still on the fence with this one, myself. By the way, I just saw someone post a Lea/Cory fic, and my Dianna/Mark senses were tingling again. Oh, my. The muses going on in my head. Anyways, thanks for reading!  
**


	34. Bus

_Holy smokes. Three more reviews untill I hit 100. That is absolutely surreal, and I cannot even express how grateful I am for everyone reviewing my ficlets. I'm having an extremely crappy week with my finals, and this is making everything so much better. I want to make a shout out to **jeytonbrucasnaley** and I hope you still did well on your final, no matter what! (: This drabble is dedicated to you. Anyways, I was rewatching "Sectionals" (of course), and I noticed in the Finn/Puck/Quinn showdown, a certain character was always featured in the background looking extremely distraught. How I loved picking at these meaningless little details..._

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* * *

_**Bus**

The bus ride is already awkward, and they haven't even left the parking lot yet.

It's morbid and tense and frustrating, and Quinn just wants to pout to herself in the safety of her own seat. That stupid jewfro Jackson (or Jacob?) kid is trying pass a feel on Rachel, Santana's arrogance is hogging all the oxygen, and Finn isn't even there to help her through it all.

But Quinn remembers she's trying to be a strong woman, but this new phase of her life is already getting old.

And her ankles are swollen.

She leans her head against the cool glass, shuttering her eyelids slowly. She doesn't hear the shuffling next to her at first, but when her weight shifts in her seat, Quinn is forced to glance at whatever fool has decided to sit next to her. Her gaze sustains as she eyes Matt Rutherford settling next to her, looking rather uncomfortable in his chosen position. Quinn raises a brow, her elbow resting casually on the window sill. Matt finally looks over at her, his face contorted with a confused smile.

"Mike wanted to sit next to Brittney," he explains. Quinn nods slowly. "And you looked sad by yourself."

"I'm not sad," she quickly says. There is silence and some more awkward shuffling, and Quinn already contemplates how potentially horrible this whole ride could be. Not much chatter circles the bus, but she can faintly hear Mercedes and Kurt whispering to each other amongst the unlively quiet. Several moments pass, and Quinn attempts to ease herself under the inconvenience of the situation as she lets her hand fall to her stomach, unconsciously caressing her belly.

"Why'd you do it?"

Quinn's head shoots up in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Matt tilts his head to her stomach. "Why'd you do it? Why Puck?"

She drops her head back onto the seat, her hand still stroking her stomach. She thinks there should be many ways to answer the question, but she can't come up with any. "I don't know," she answers honestly.

This answer doesn't satisfy him, but he tries to be patient. "What do girls even want in guys, anyways?" he mutters, but Quinn is smart enough to know he's directing this question to himself. Suddenly, he looks really upset, and maybe it's a mixture of her blasting hormones, new motherly instincts, and diminishing tolerance, but Quinn feels like she has an obligation to comfort him. Maybe it's because everyone has shown her so much support for the past few months that the world is pushing her to give some of that compassion back, starting with Matt Rutherford.

Maybe his problems don't revolve around pregnant girlfriends and ashamed Catholic parents, but it doesn't make them any less real. She watches him fiddle with his hands for a moment before she sighs out loud, playing with the buttons of her turquoise coat. "Girls just want someone to want them back," she whispers softly, but he hears it. "At least I did."

She answers his previous question without even realizing it.

He's quiet for a moment, tinkering with the headphones from his iPod. "We all meant what we sang during 'Lean on Me,'" he offers quietly. She gives him a small smile. "I hope you feel better soon, Quinn." He gradually returns the smile before inserting his earphones, allowing her to settle in her own peace. However, her pregnancy mood swings kick in, and maybe she's taking the whole "Lean on Me" thing too literally, but she finds herself peeling herself away from the window and resting her head on Matt's shoulder. He looks alarmed at first, but he notices her watery eyes and lets it be.

_Lean on me, when you're not strong._

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**Oh, no. I'm possibly bordering out of character in the ending, but pregnancy hormones make you do all sorts of weird things. By the way, four Golden Globe Nominations for Glee! OUTSTANDING. Anyways, requests are now open again for future drabbles! So far, I have more Artie/Quinn lined up. If you have a suggestion, drop it by. Thanks for reading.**


	35. Engagement

_106 reviews. I'm flabbergasted. Really, thank you all so much. You are all fantastic, wonderful people. On another note, I'm going to be writing a Puck centric fic in the very near future. The structure will be a bit weird, but hopefully you all will like it. Also, for those of you who watch Chuck, I'm going to be starting a series of Chuck/Sarah drabbles next month. They won't be like this, but just a series on nonsensical ramblings. Anyways, onto my ficlet. Takes place pre-series, possibly early high school/late middle school. Quinn fantasizes about one of the biggest days of her life. Thanks again for the reviews!  
_

* * *

**Engagement**

They are exploding into fits of giggles. "What kind of dress do you want?"

"White, of course."

"Well, obviously. I was talking about what _type_ of gown."

"Probably something classic."

"You should wear something beautiful... like silk!"

"Quinny, it's going to be held in a _church_."

Quinn rolls her eyes and twirls a honey lock of hair, forcefully hiding her embarrassment. Her sister is perched gracefully in front of her vanity, occasionally flashing her left hand against the mirror's reflection. She smiles nonchalantly, and Quinn can't help but look a little awestruck. "How about bridesmaid's dresses?"

"Lilac. Do you even have to ask?"

"Flowers?"

"Orchids."

"Music?"

"String orchestra."

"Food?"

"Salmon with light pasta."

"Summer or winter?"

"Spring."

"Honeymoon?"

Quinn's sister gasps, noticeably thrusting her left hand across her chest. "I'm not discussing my honeymoon with _you_, Quinny." She rolls her eyes again, but her excitement has already tickled her cheeks pink. Quinn's sister smiles, tossing a chunk of hair over her shoulder. "Maybe one day when you're older, we can discuss this. Right now, you are just too young and immature to understand the true commitment of marriage and family." She squeezes her arm, giving a light shrug. "You're so lucky you have so much time before you have to think about these things." Quinn shrugs indifferently as her sister smiles and bounds out the room, her left hand glittering in the distance.

No one will ever know that later that night, Quinn forms a makeshift veil with a diamond barrette and sheer white scarf. She walks up and down her room slowly, and in the vast array of her imagination, crowds of people fill a church as they watch her saunter elegantly down the aisle. There, her husband-to-be would be waiting patiently for her, ever-present with a handsome smile and supportive awe. Flicking candles and flower petals sprinkle the edges, and everyone would think they are looking at a princess. It would be the most beautiful moment of her life; she is sure of it.

But Quinn gets impatient easily.

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**For some reason, while writing this, I imagined Quinn's sister to be a lot like Helga's sister in "Hey Arnold." I cannot remember her name for the life of me, but hopefully you all know who I'm talking about? Anyways, I made a pretty killer Puck/Quinn playlist, and I've been jamming to it for the past two hours... because obviously you all wanted to know that about myself. Hahhhhhh. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review if you have the time!**


	36. Mercy

_I know I haven't updated in awhile, and that's because I've been working on a new fic! I have two chapters up currently, and it's titled **"Seven"**_. _It's a Puck centric fic based on the seven deadly sins and seven heavenly virtues. I would love for you to check it out and drop by a review! Also, I plan on having "A Quinn Christmas Special" drabblefest here, so look for that on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. (: Anyways, on to this drabble! Set in the pilot. Quinn recites her nightly prayer._

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* * *

_**Mercy**

Name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit.

Dear God,

Thank you for providing me with such a wonderful family. I am grateful for my father, my mother, and my older sister... even though she was totally rude to me today. She is seriously way too sensitive about her clothes. It was just a stupid skirt, and it's not like I tore it into shreds or anything. Besides, it made her butt look like the size of Jupiter. I was doing her a favor, really.

Anyways.

I am thankful for my friends. Santana, especially, because it was so funny when she made that stutterer girl almost cry in third period today. I mean, no one in their right mind has blue streaked hair – it was completely necessary for Santana to tell her that. I guess she could have said it nicely or whatever, but... I mean. It was _funny_.

Thank you for my position as Cheerio captain, Celibacy Club president, and Honor Roll student. I mean, I deserve it, but I'm still thankful. It's the Christian thing to do.

I am also thankful for my cute, fantastic, and popular boyfriend Finn Hudson. God, I know you totally did this on purpose, and I'm so grateful for that. Cheer captain and quarterback? Given. It's like we're the Adam and Eve of McKinley, except I'm not stupid and wouldn't eat forbidden fruit. Like, that was just a dumb move on Eve's part. So really, Finn and I are like Adam and Eve version 2. Oh, speaking of dumb moves, can you just, I don't know, grant Finn a bit more... intellectual intuition? You're _God_. Like, just sprinkle some brain powder on him while he's asleep. Like, he's hot and all, but it's really hard carrying a conversation with him when all he wants to do is throw eggs at people. It was charismatic at first, but now it's just frustrating.

Speaking of frustrating, you know who I am _not_ thankful for? Rachel Berry. I know you don't care if I say I hate her because she's Jewish, but it's not even the Jewish thing. She's so, like... Okay. First, she's ugly. Second, she's disgusting. Third, she's like the leftover part of an amputated arm you keep scratching off, but it just won't go away. Plus, I have pretty clear evidence that she's a transvestite. I plan on making fliers about this. Students at McKinley have a right to know this. It's not like I'm even doing a mean thing. She's totally throwing herself on Finn, like, all the time, but she's a _transvestite_. I know you understand, God.

Well, I guess that's my prayer for tonight. Oh, by the way, can you make Noah Puckerman stop staring at my butt like it's a piece of meat? Though I am entertained by his slushie-throwing skills, the whole "my hand was just accidentally near your ass" excuse is getting old. Thanks God. You're the best. I hope tomorrow will be just as good, and don't worry. I'm so on top of that flier thing.

Amen.

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**Basically, bitch!Quinn is always fun. Thanks for reading, and I would love some feedback if you have the time!**


	37. Writer's Choice: Christmas Special

_Happy Holidays everyone! Just because it's Christmas Eve, I'm updating this once more. (: Consider it my little holiday present from me to you. I may not be updating this for awhile because I'm working on several other fics and I'm also going to be out of town, so I made this longer than normal to make up for it. Also, special thanks and shout out to **Miss Bree-tea**_ _for reviewing every drabble I have ever written. You are awesome, and this is totally dedicated to you._ _Enjoy this "Quinn Christmas Special."_

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**A Quinn Christmas Special**

**Age two.** She watched a swirl of fluffy crystals dance outside the window, tiptoeing through the silver sky with ease and grace. Large, pretty green eyes tracked each floating snowflake, following them with intense curiosity. Her pink lips would part momentarily when her eyes caught something surprising, like a soaring dove blending against the whirling white background. Quinn grabbed the edge of the table to keep her balance steady, her legs slightly wobbly from inconsistent use. She rubbed her rosy cheeks and pushed the blond ringlets off of her face, wrinkling her velvet dress in the process. The distant voice of her mother beckoned for her in the background, but Quinn did not budge. She watched the snowy sparkles simmer across the sky, completely enchanted by the blanket of powder covering her world.

**Age five. **A teddy bear strapped tightly in her arms, Quinn stifled a yawn as she slumped further into the couch. Her body was gradually slipping from its previous upright stance, and her nightgown crumpled as she slowly drifted into a curled position. She began fighting her closing eyelids, but it was almost ten o'clock and she had been awake early to attend Christmas Eve mass. Her mother and father spoke quietly in the kitchen, glancing at their youngest daughter from time to time. They gave each other looks of amusement before carrying on their whispers, and their eldest daughter hastily set out a plate of cookies and milk before retreating to prepare for bed; it wouldn't be long before they all ascended upstairs to sleep.

All but Quinn.

Every year, she had managed to miss the elusive Santa Claus from clamoring down her chimney. Not that she actually believed in the old myth or anything (only babies believed in that sort of thing), but she did believe in Saint Nicholas. Her parents had told her that St. Nick was an actual person, and no matter what, she had to believe in him. Either way, Quinn was positive that this whole Santa Claus business was a total fabrication of a holy figure, and she wasn't very happy about it. And if the fat old man was real, well, Quinn had decided long beforehand that she would wait up for him and confront the guy about this epic case of identity theft. She was really prepared to give him a piece of her mind, but as the clock ticked further into the night, her consciousness drifted away as her mind launched dreams about Frosty the Snowman and the Spice Girls. Her teddy bear fell from her hands as sleep overcame her small frame, but by midnight, her father had picked up has sleeping baby girl and placed her silently into the depths of her room upstairs. Quinn woke up the next morning with a soiled plan, but her new deluxe doll house had taken her mind off her holiday scheming.

**Age six. **Her father and mother handed over a pretty red box, a delicate silver bow binded at the top. Quinn beamed as she took it from her parents hands, working her way through the tasteful wrapping paper. Finally, she carefully opened the box, gasping as her eyes narrowed in on the sole object. A beautiful silver cross laid in the middle, glimmering in fragile perfection. "I love it," she declared instantly, and her father grinned as he attached the legendary necklace around her neck.

**Age nine.** "That's so _not_ fair!" Quinn screeched.

Her sister sighed, rolling her eyes at the overuse of dramatics. "Well, life's not fair."

"Well, you sinned."

"How is that even sinning?"

"You stole my idea! I was going to buy mom those earrings for Christmas!"

"Ugh, Quinn, just make her a card or a bead bracelet or something. She'll think it's _cute_."

Quinn couldn't roll off the smugness in her sister's voice. "I hope God will make you fat as a punishment," she retorted sharply before walking out her sister's room. And if God wasn't going to do it, it wouldn't be exactly hard to dump a few extra pounds of sugar in her sister's peppermint hot chocolate. Quinn smiled deviously; the Christmas spirit was quite present in the Fabray household that night as Quinn looked alarming serene while assembling her gingerbread house.

"What's with you?" her sister snorted, half-watching "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" from the couch.

"Don't worry about it," she chirped calmly. Her sister rolled her eyes and returned to the movie as Quinn's smile grew wider. Sure, fattening up a cup of cocoa was one thing, but switching the tags of her sister's Christmas present was far more appetizing. It would be a jolly Christmas indeed.

**Age twelve.** "This is so crappy," Noah Puckerman muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You take that back," Quinn returned, writing a couple of notes in her light blue notebook.

"I don't want to be some dweeb named Joesph."

"Joesph was not a dweeb! And actually, he's called Saint Joesph now."

"He sounds like a big fruit."

Quinn let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her face into her hands. "Mrs. Spencer said our group had to do a project on holiday traditions, and I think we should do the nativity scene."

"But I'm Jewish."

"Rachel's group is already doing a musical number about lighting the menorah," Matt Rutherford interrupted.

"See? And no other group is doing a nativity scene yet. We have to do it. It's a classic."

Noah frowned. "Fine, but I want a sword."

"Are you an idiot?" Quinn cried out. "Joesph didn't carry a sword. He had a staff." She rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"I want to be a sheep," Brittney smiled.

"You can't be a sheep, Brittney. I already told you you're going to be the angel. Can't you listen to directions at all?"

"And who are you going to be?" Noah interjected suddenly.

"The Virgin Mary."

He smirked, leaning against the side of her desk. "How fitting." His smile quickly widened. "Hey, that means you and me are having a baby."

"It's the _Virgin_ Mary, Noah. Joesph had nothing to do with it."

**Age fourteen. **She stepped in the front of the church, her white dress radiating against the wooden backdrop. The rest of the children's choir stood behind her in the classic red and green attire, but Quinn was the soloist. Like everything in life, she was entitled to opportunities far beyond the average bystander.

_Silent night, holy night  
All is calm, all is bright  
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child  
Holy Infant so tender and mild  
Sleep in heavenly peace  
Sleep in heavenly peace_

The choir filled in, but Quinn would always be the star.

**Age sixteen. **Quinn sighed, a puff of cold air escaping from her lips. As she adjusted her gloves, she pulled down on her lavender beret to better cover her ears, the relentless cold attacking her from all edges. She felt the backwash of slush splash onto her boots, but Quinn ignored the biting chill and pushed her way down the frosty sidewalk. She could hear scattered laughter coming from the insides of cozy households, and she would occasionally let herself peak inside, only to turn her face away immediately. She felt a light tinge of shame for invading on a private family moment, and she continued her way down the street trying to refrain from incidental glances.

But it's hard not wanting what you don't have.

She rounded the corner, tightening the coat over her chest. There was a noticeable bump protruding around her stomach area, clumping and forcing the fabric over her abdomen. It was actually a gift from Kurt (plus his previously suggested spanx and a double knit camisole). She hadn't expected anyone to even give her Christmas present, let alone Kurt Hummel. She didn't even have any money to return the favor, but he waved it off saying, "You wouldn't let me make you over the first time. Think of this as collateral fun."

And it wasn't just Kurt, either. Other members of glee club had been surprisingly generous as well. Tina and Artie had gotten her an assortment of hair clips ("We noticed you liked to wear them a lot"). Mercedes had gotten her a bright neon shirt that said "Baby Mama" ("You wear too much white, pink, and yellow... Girl, you need to add a bit more color to your wardrobe!"). Brittney had given her a stuffed baby duck ("I like ducks"), and Rachel had shockingly handed her a Wicked soundtrack ("Naturally, my voice is more suited for Elphaba, and as I was evaluating who would be most fitted for Glinda, I was just as surprised that it happened to be you. You may find 'Popular' appealing... though slightly ironic, but focus on the duet 'For Good.' I've already informed Mr. Schuester this is a prime choice for regionals and.....") It was a strange presentation, and Quinn had yet listen to the songs, but she hadn't completely ruled out the proposition. However, it wasn't too much of a surprise that Finn had not gotten her anything, and while it stung, she found a curious package of diapers addressed to her in the choir room. She didn't make a fuss over it, and if the gift wasn't astounding enough, it was even more curious that both Finn and Puck looked suspicious as the culprits. Quinn would never find out who actually gave the gift, but she found herself frivolously pleased either way.

Pushing past a sleet of icy terrain, Quinn finally made it in front of her destination. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a large Manila envelope and folded out the crinkles. With another sigh, she opened the mailbox and placed the envelope inside, shutting it close with a feign of anxiety. She stared at it for a few moments, and she figured there were two possible outcomes: guilt or fury. But like the package of diapers, she seemed satisfied with both possibilities as she walked away, a group of snowflakes brushing her cheeks.

At least her parents would acknowledge through the enveloped sonogram that their granddaughter did exist.

_Round yon Virgin Mother and Child  
Holy Infant so tender and mild  
Sleep in heavenly peace  
Sleep in heavenly peace_

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_**I would love some feedback if you have the time. :) Happy Holidays to you all!**


	38. Desolate

_What is this? I'm alive?! I know I haven't updated anything at all recently, and I'm really sorry. Everything is just completely hectic at the moment, but I did have a stir of inspiration when I was standing in the middle of Golden Gate Park, and someone started blasting the Dresden Dolls. Very, very short drabble, but most certainly inspired by a wonderful band during very odd timing and a quirky situation. There are some things that terrifies Quinn._

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**Desolate**

Sex and death.

Both are explosions of sound, light, and color. A dance between passion and heat, a flight of intensity. Both are endings in one way, beginnings in other. They soar and collide; there's no way out.

Quinn fears both more than anything. She is abandoned and desolate – one day she'll just crash and burn. _Oh yeah, she'll learn._

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**Like I said, very short, but I would enjoy reviews if you have the time. If anyone's wondering about my Puck story, I'm really unsure about it at this point. It may be on indefinite hiatus, because I've pretty much loss all inspiration for it, and I have two new projects lined up and ready to go. Hopefully no one is too disappointed by that. Anyways, thanks for reading!**


	39. Needful Things

_What is this? Another update? Hell must have frozen over! :) Actually, this idea has been in my mind for awhile, I had only just decided to type it officially a few minutes ago. But first, I would like to address a few things that I keep forgetting to mention in each update. In the "Bus" drabble, I made a silly mistake in Math Rutherford's mention of "Lean on Me." He wasn't even in the performance of "Lean on Me!" Oh hum. I've been trying to make this as canon as possible, but for now, we'll just say Matt was part of that number, yes? :) Another thing that needs to be mentioned: so far, I've been referring to Quinn's infamous cross necklace as silver. Someone pointed out that it was, in fact, a gold necklace. Not that it shakes up the world or anything, but for some strange reason, I always thought it was silver! That was just my mistake, so Quinn's necklace from now on will be referred to as gold. Also, thanks to those who informed me that Helga's sister in "Hey Arnold" was named Olga. Much appreciation! Now... onto the drabble! It's the first future one I've done, meaning that the time setting is pretty ambiguous (aside from the fact that it would occur in the back nine). You'll understand when you read it. Quinn and Artie discuss things that aren't real - and the things they wish that were._

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**Needful Things**

"At first, I'm lying down," he begins, his thumbs fiddling nervously. "And I get really anxious because I don't know how to get up. The wheelchair isn't around – actually, there are no chairs around. I'm just laying there alone, and it's really quiet... I _really_ don't know what to do. So I start to panic. I try thrusting myself upward, but... that's when I realize it. My legs can _move._" He stares at her, as if debating whether to go on or not, but Quinn leans forward a bit, egging him a bit. "So I test them. I move a toe. I move all my toes. They wiggle! I pick up one knee, then I pick up both, and then I push myself on my feet. I know I was probably just walking but... but it felt like I was flying. I start running. I jump, I hop. I start _dancing_." His expression is beautiful, and she smiles genuinely. "I felt... I don't know. I felt _free_. It was like all my chains were gone, and I think, just for a moment, maybe I really _can_ fly. I think, what can stop me now? So I do it. I jump, lurching myself to the sky... and then I wake up." There's a swift pause, as if he wishes to take back everything he's said, but he breaks into a small smile as he finally looks her in the eye. "That was my dream."

Quinn leans back, resting her head against the chair. They both stir in the silence, and he quietly watches her fingers dance on top of her stomach. He feels his own hands dropping to his knees; it's not the same. Finally, her head pops back up, and she stares at him with a look that qualifies as a crossbreed between the 'Fabray Glare' and fear. "She's about three." Quinn caresses her stomach. "We have a house. It's light blue with white shutters. There may have been a tire swing, I don't remember. The front yard is... it's huge. Huger than the house. She's running around, laughing and playing. There's a big tree. Several, I think, but she choses one and tries to climb it. She keeps falling down, though, but she just starts laughing and tries again. There's a... a white porch. Or cream, I can't remember. But I'm standing on it, watching her from afar. Just watching.

But there are several instances where she gets too close to really hurting herself. Sometimes she trips and her knee scrapes against the cement or she bumps into the picket fence and gets a bruise on her forehead." Her breath becomes heavier, and Quinn starts talking faster. "I finally start walking towards her, but... I can't reach her. I start running, but it's like she's being pulled farther away from me. I call to her, but she can't hear me. I'm sprinting now because she's really hurt, and I'm _so close _to reaching her. She's only arms distance away, and I'm just about to hold her... and then I wake up."

She's staring at her hands, her eyes wide and heavy. Artie glances at her, his own face contorted with concern. "I can never reach her," she breathes; her voice is rough. "Every time I try, she disappears."

Suddenly, her eyebrows knit, and Quinn feels the harsh stings from the back of her eyes. "It breaks my _heart_ that I can't save my little girl." She looks at him, as if he can find a loophole around this. He reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently for comfort. "A mother's only job is to protect her baby, and I can't even do that in my dreams." She whimpers, and Artie holds her hand tighter. "It hurts me _so badly_ that she will grow up thinking I never wanted her or that I never cared. Because I care about her so much. And she looks so much like me and so much like _him_..." Quinn lets out another small sob, pushing her face to the sky. "How am I supposed to just leave her? How can I just hope for the best? She's my baby. How can I let her go without telling her that I loved her?" And as everything breaks apart, her body positions awkwardly around the wheelchair, but Artie still manages to hold her up for support as she breaks down in his arms. "What am I supposed to _do_?" she cries in his shoulder. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't...." Her tearful chant becomes muffled in his sleeve, but Artie continues to hold her tight, only until she lets go.

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**Hope you enjoyed it! It ends on a depressing note, I know. But the more I think about the new episodes coming in April, the more concern I have about what the hell is going on with that show. Who's taking the baby? Where is Quinn even living? So frustrating. Anyways, thanks for reading! I have some Finn/Quinn, Puck/Quinn, and Quinn/Celibacy Club coming up! Comments and critique are always appreciated. :)**


	40. Under the Influence

_Well, talk about a hiatus! I hope none of you thought I forgot about this fic. I certainly haven't! The business of life has just swept over, and along with the four month long wait of Glee, my priorities had been heavily shifted. Nevertheless, I squeezed out a little drabble for all you faithful, wonderful, godlike creatures! I had thought about it briefly before but had only recently took the actual time to sit down and write it out. Takes place during "The Rhodes Not Taken." What does Quinn really think of April, and how did April win her over?_

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**Under the Influence**

"You can't be_ serious_," Quinn remarks, her voice loud enough to carry throughout the choir room. Santana smirks, not even bothering to stifle her laughter in her hand.

Mercedes frowns. "She actually seems kind of cool."

Quinn rolls her eyes, waving the air. "I wouldn't expect anything less, seeing what your tolerance for cool is." Santana is cackling now, Brittany following with lighthearted giggles. Mercedes is ready to establish a more brash conflict, but Kurt quickly steps in and gingerly extracts her from the room; dead cheer captain is just another scandal the glee club really doesn't need. The rest of them eventually follow suit, the morning bell only minutes from ringing. Quinn gathers her cheer bag slowly, careful to avoid any sudden nauseous movements. Suddenly, she feels a lurch in her throat and clutches her chest, glittering pom poms scattering on the floor.

"Easy there, Sandra Dee."

If it wasn't for the growing fetus having a fiesta in her uterus, the sound of April Rhodes's voice would be enough to make her hurl.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere?" Quinn snaps, releasing the hold on her chest. She whips herself around, reaching to pick up her poms. "Like in a retirement home," she mutters, a bit loud for what should have been a whisper.

But April just grins. "Woah there, princess. At least give me time to prepare for the claws." She recreates said gesture, giving a little playful purr as she does so, albeit sounding rather drunk for eight in the morning. Quinn rolls her eyes, but April catches it, strolling over with dramatic ease. "I think that ponytail's got your thoughts wrapped too tight," she points out, her eyes growing big. She makes a move to pat her head, but Quinn darts her face away from her reach. "Prevents you from thinking straight, me thinks."

"You smell like butt," Quinn mutters, once again louder than an intended whisper would sound.

"Just take some of April Rhodes advice," she insists, fluffing up her blonde locks. "Take that hair down of yours once in awhile. It'll make you look like a new woman." She smiles, prancing a bit around the room. "And you know, you'll start to feel like a new woman, too." The bell rings, and Quinn scoffs, leaving the room without another word.

But when the Invitational rolls around, Quinn finds herself running her hands through long honey hair, each strand falling delicately down her shoulders. So she looks a bit more ladylike with this length ("Oh God, it's a vision of Grace Kelly in cowboy boots," Kurt gasps). And so Finn compliments the look, saying he wished she would wear it down more ("It looks all long and pretty and stuff, Quinn.") And so Puck keeps glancing over at her, as if he is getting some kind of self-enjoyment out of her appearance (not like that even matters anyways). So what if she feels 100 times better about herself, and so what if it's kind of fun. Sure. Quinn will admit that it's _nice. _She feels _nice._ But it has nothing to do with than drunk April Rhodes and her nonsensical advice.

"Looking good, Sweet Pea."

Quinn cringes as she feels April's hand brush clumsily past her hair, a small stench of alcohol following her. But April winks at her and gives her a cowboy thumbs up, and even Quinn can't suppress a small smile. 'Middle-aged women are so _strange_,' she thinks, but as she runs another finger through a silk curl, she figures they have their reasons.

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**To those of you who are still reading this fic, oh my word. I am so extraordinary grateful! I promise I won't let you down. Forty drabbles down, sixty more to go! A bit daunting, but I have the back nine to keep me inspired. :) Thanks for reading!**


	41. Touch

_I have so many ideas bursting in my head for this fic, but after watching tonight's episode "Dream On", this almost instantly wrote itself. I promise, though, with all these new episodes, I have much more drabbles to come! (Despite the fact that Quinn gets about one speaking line per episode. Boo those whores.) Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well, and you're all enjoying themselves! Thanks for all those who have still been reviewing diligently; it absolutely makes my day whenever I get just one review. Here's a special shout out to **imadetheminmydreams**! Thanks for all the reviews, love! Now, on to the drabble. Takes place, obviously, during "Dream On." This is a Part II to "Needful Things", drabble #39. Quinn and Artie have a painful discussion._

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**Touch**

Her head is in a such flurry that it hardly surprises her when her notebook scatters onto the floor. Her multi-tasking skills have quickly diminished over these past few months, and her surrendering patience has unraveled herself into a predicted realm of blasé indifference. Quinn sighs heavily, glaring tiredly at the ceiling before relishing in her predicament; however, as she glances back towards her book, a familiar squeak of wheels rolls up to the spot. She watches Artie bend over awkwardly, shuffling himself towards the colorfully spotted notebook. A moment of relief flashes by as Quinn absently holds her belly, closing her eyes for a mild second. Her mind wanders to a more unpleasant scenario, one consisting of an upperclassman basketball player kicking her notebook aside, unaware of her hormone-induced stress. Surely the act would gander several bystanders, causing a small chuckle to ripple throughout the hallways. Just another embarrassment Quinn could do without. He would probably even have the nerve to -

"Quinn?" His small voice instantly bounds her back to reality as she snaps towards him, one arm placed heavily on her back. She opens her mouth to respond, but as her eyes travel down towards his hands, a wave of shock breaks through her whole conscious. They both stand for several seconds, unsure how to carry on this discovery. Quinn opens her mouth to speak again, her lips gaping slightly before briskly shutting it close. She opts for a more physical confrontation as her hand maneuvers past her pregnant belly, and she snatches the notebook from him, closing the pages shut.

"Quinn -"

"You will never mention this. To _anybody_."

"But-"

Her right eyebrow raises to her signature intimidating look. He looks persistent, but her smoldering eyes shushes his protests. "Artie Abrams, I swear to Jesus Christ of Nazareth that if you spill this to _anyone_, you won't be able to move your arms either." She glares at him harder, and something inside him looks like he's breaking, but he nods slowly in agreement.

"Fine."

"Promise?"

"You have my word."

She stares at him for a little longer, as if unsure to believe him, but he gives her a small smile and Quinn figures it will have to do for now. She purses her lips in satisfaction and clutches her notebook before turning herself around.

"I had the dream again."

Quinn stops dead in her tracks.

"Except, it was a day dream this time, I think. I was at the mall with Tina yesterday and I just thought... I don't know. I just thought that, maybe, dreams don't have to only be in your sleep." She hears him sigh miserably, but Quinn refuses to turn around. "You know 'The Safety Dance?' That's what I was dancing to. And singing, actually. Everyone was there. Matt, Mike, Brittany... They were dancing with me, you know, like it was all normal." He pauses again. "I bought tap shoes." Quinn blinks rapidly before finally turning her head around, her face pinched together. "Tina wanted us to do this tap duet. We wanted to perform during glee club. Tina is great, obviously. I mean, she's great at everything she does. I just wanted to be great for her, too." He tries to smile, but his eyes give away everything. "I guess it's not a big deal. That's dreams for you, huh? Just some wild hopes confined to our own imaginations."

Quinn stares at him for a good minute, her lips slightly parted. "Artie," she begins. He looks up at her, giving her a sheepish smile. Quinn shakes her head, but she has nothing to offer him. "I'm sorry," she mutters feebly, turning her head away.

"Don't be. I'm not the only one who wants something." Quinn doesn't watch as he rolls away, and she clutches her notebook tighter to her chest until her knuckles turn white.

And then Artie sings "Dream a Little Dream of Me" during glee rehearsal, and as Mike and Tina dance center stage, she feels like she's obligated to do _something_. Quinn glances at Artie as he sings, and she reaches out to touch his shoulder, quietly hoping for his spirits to rise. She has nothing else for him, no words of encouragement or friendly advice. All she has is her meek touch, sending him a silent message that, despite his disappointment, dreams are there for a reason. They sneak into the soul a steal away a small part, but that pain, that bitter desolation, it allows people to know they are alive. It lets people know that there is something real, and that something is worth fighting for. It's worth everything.

Tucked away in Quinn's colorfully spotted notebook, past gruesome sketches of Rachel Berry and unsolved math problems, is a page Mr. Ryan directed them to write their dream on. A heavily crossed out "No Stretch Marks" graces the middle of the page, but right underneath it, in small delicate letters reads "A Family."

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**Bahhhhh. Heartbreaking. What's coming up next? Some promised angsty Quinn/Finn**. **Quinn/Celibacy Club. Quinn/Mercedes. And much, _much _Quinn and Puck. Thanks for reading and have a gorgeous day!**


	42. Wealth

_Hello, hello, hello! So I've decided to try and make this updates weekly! Sounds much better, yes? I just finished watching "Theatricality" and my heart nearly melted with all the Puck/Quinn goodness! Can't say it didn't help inspire this little drabble. :) Takes place in between "The Power of Madonna" and "Home". At home, Quinn helps Puck on his English essay, and it leads to interesting results._

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_**Wealth**_  
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"Why do I have to explain it? It's so obvious Gatsby was into Daisy."

Quinn imagined knocking her head against the table. "Because the assignment was to write an essay on why Gatsby did the things he did. It's not enough to just say he was into Daisy. You have to prove it."

"Gatsby was a fruit. I don't have to prove anything. It's a fact."

"But you have to explain _why_ you think it's a fact. You need direct sources."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"How do you think, Puck?"

"Like... time travel?"

Quinn stared. "More like... quotes?" Puck groaned, throwing his pencil across the table. "Stop! Look, just... just imagine you're Gatsby, okay? Pretend that everything that happened to him happened to you. Now tell me, why do you love Daisy so much?" Puck furrowed his brows; Quinn sighed. "If something turns on in that brain of yours, let me know. For now, I'm going to pee."

"Daisies are cheap."

Quinn raised a brow. "What?"

"My mom used to buy daisies to put in our vases. They were really cheap. I remember 'cause she would send me out to buy them. Three dollars for a dozen."

"And?"

"His Daisy wasn't all that smart. She was... cheap. And kinda retarded. And mean. Maybe... well, maybe he didn't actually loved her. Maybe she wasn't as special as he thought she was. I think that, probably, he was just lonely... and he wanted somebody to love. Maybe. I don't know. Maybe... he just thought he loved her."

"He loved the idea of loving someone," she finished.

Puck nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think."

Quinn smiled. "Puck, I'm really proud of - "

"What am I saying?" he cackled, cutting her off. "He probably just wanted to get into her pants. Daisy is such a porn star name."

Quinn grabbed his paper and crushed it miserably against her forehead.

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**Just a cute little look at their home life. As you all probably know, I'm a huge Puck/Quinn fan, so expect loads more of them! :) Thanks for reading!**


	43. Coffee Break

_I apologize for forgetting to update last week. To make up for it, I'll try and update twice this week! On another note, the season finale was on tonight. I was actually really pleased by the episode! Much Quinn/Puck nonsense went on, and it surely made my heart beat wildly. On ANOTHER note, I'm in the process of writing a new fic. Unfortunately, no, it's not Glee. It's going to be an epic-ly long Sailor Moon fic, though it shall be extremely AU and lack any of the magical power/fantasy element. If that's something you're into, please check it out once I start posting it! And if you're not into it, maybe you'll find yourself checking it out, anyways? :) Haha! You really won't need to have watched the show to understand it, nor do you need to be an anime fan. It will honestly be very translatable, so I'll keep this updated with info on it, if you're all interested! Now, enough rambling and onto the drabble! Takes place after Bad Reputation. Quinn confronts her counselor and defends Mr. Schuester._

**Coffee Break**

"Ms. Pillsbury? Do you have a minute?"

Quinn watched patiently as a mop of red hair popped up from the desk. Emma's eyes were unmistakably surprised, but she smiled wholly and Quinn returned the gesture.

"Of course, Quinn. I was just about to go on my coffee break, but you're welcome to join me." Emma made a motion towards the chair across from her. Quinn nodded briefly, accepting the invitation as she placed herself down gingerly.

After a few seconds of watching Emma pour coffee in her own personalized mug, Quinn cleared her throat softly. "We don't see you around glee club anymore."

Emma smiled guiltily. "I know. I'm sorry. I've been meaning to lately, but a lot has been going on."

"Does it have to do with Mr. Schu?"

Emma turned her head quickly, almost winded by her sudden reaction. Quinn smiled slyly, a mischievous brow raised up high. The two stared at each other for a quick second before Emma shook her head, her senses coming back together. "W-What? No! No, of course not. What would give you such an idea?"

"Ms. Pillsbury, you called him a slut. You can't expect the whole school _not_ to hear about that."

"Ah," Emma sighed, her cheeks warming up. "I guess I didn't predict such... consequences."

Quinn shrugged, cradling her hands around her belly. "So it does have to do with him, then?"

Emma sighed once more, as if debating whether or not to continue on the topic. Stirring the coffee, she placed it down before giving a small smile. "Quinn, I'm not sure if this an appropriate conversation to have with a student. _I _should be the one counseling _you_. And, to be honest, I'm fine, really - "

"I know what it's like," she interrupted, though her voice was gentle. Emma paused, gazing with curious but pleading eyes. "You can't trust them. Although the truth is, we have every right not to because they have already lead us to believe that there's no point. But at times, you feel like you should try. You know, maybe give them that second chance. But then you think, is it really worth another heart break? And then you think so more, and you can't help but wonder, what if this time, I get everything I ever wanted?"

Emma's face softened, a sorrowful look in her eyes. "Quinn..."

"But the difference between us, Ms. Pillsbury, is that I'm still a kid. I'm supposed to make stupid mistakes before things are okay. But you and Mr. Schu... you two have been through enough." Quinn pursed her lips, absently folding out the creases of her pistachio dress. "I know what he did was wrong, but don't you think you could ever forgive him?"

"I don't think I can." The words left her mouth before she even realized it. "And it's not because I don't want to. I really wish I could. I just don't think it's possible for me..." Her lips curved slightly, restrained hope in her eyes. "At least, not yet."

"He's a good guy, just a little broken," said Quinn quietly. "Not too different from the rest of us, I think."

Emma smiled and looked away, concealing the apparent sadness welling up in her face. Quinn took note of this and silently stood up, preparing to take her leave. "I'm sorry for taking up your time, Ms. Pillsbury. Enjoy the rest of your coffee break."

As she moved towards the door, Emma found her feet as well, leaning uncomfortably against her desk. But before Quinn could fully exit, she turned around once more, facing her counselor with blatant determination on her face. "You know, life's about taking risks. We shouldn't have to be afraid all the time."

"I just don't think _now_ is the right time," Emma answered honestly.

Quinn smiled. "Of course not. That's why it's a risk." With a final wave goodbye, Quinn left. Sometimes, the person with all the advice needs to listen to the person who needs it.

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**I know I promised so many different ships, but this one just came to mind! Thanks for reading, and if you have time, drop by a review! I would love to hear what you think about the finale, this fic, and my future SM story!**


	44. Mint

_Another update this week, like I promised! I'm also glad I have at least one anxious reader for my Sailor Moon fic! I wrote a good seven pages this morning, and honestly, I'm really excited about it. All right, on to the drabble. Some Finn/Quinn that I promised decades ago. Sorry it's one the short side, but for being a non-Finn/Quinn shipper, I actually really like this one. Takes place pre-Pilot. Quinn has a sensitive taste palate._

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_

**Mint**

Mint, she decides. He tastes like mint.

They've kissed twice already, and Finn's just about to go in for the third.

Brittany had asked earlier that day if his lips tasted like carmel apple lollipops.

Quinn was slightly appalled.

She thinks about it all day, sorting out various flavors and such.

She goes through too many possibilities.

Cinnamon. Honey. _Strawberries._

But now he's in front of her, nervously shifting his enormous body back and forth.

But she smiles because she just made her decision.

He smiles back shyly because it looks like she has a secret.

She's a little irritated by how long this is taking, so she leans in a bit.

He gets it.

Yes, Quinn thinks. It's definitely mint.

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**Just some sweet little fluff. :) Quinn/Will, Quinn/Mercedes, and an ungodly amount of Puck/Quinn (and Beth!) coming up soon! Thanks for reading!**


	45. Endangered

_I've been trying so very hard to keep these updates consistent! Lately, I've been doing pretty well, and I hope to keep it up! Here's some sentimental Quinn/Puck to get you through the week. Takes place during "Journey". A more in depth look into the Quinn/Puck/Beth scene._

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* * *

_

**Endangered**

"She looks like you."

_No, Puck. _She wants to say. _She's not even a day old. All newborns look the same._ But Quinn can't lie because she's too exhausted for that, and now that he's mentioned it, that's all she can see. Two perfect eyes. A mess of perfect hair. Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. All she wants to do is jump into the glass and count her toes again, just to make sure they're all still there.

"Do you want to keep her?"

"No." _Yes. _"Do you?"

She doesn't expect an answer, and he doesn't give one. Quinn closes her eyes, and a small part of her thinks that when she opens them, all of this would go away. "Did you love me?"

"Yes." He says it so softly, but she knows how much he means it. "Especially now."

He turns his head towards her, and despite her sweaty face, dirty hair, and dark eye bags, Puck is looking at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He smiles, and Quinn knows that if they weren't in such a public place or in front of their _daughter_, he would kiss her right then and there because he's always been better expressing his emotions physically.

She smiles back; so this is what it's like when time stops.

Just the two of them, exchanging not-so-secret glances, and their baby girl just a few feet away.

And then Ms. Corcoran walks in, and Quinn can't take her eyes off her because it's all over now. She _knows_ what's going to happen. The way she's looking at her daughter, the way she's looking at _Beth_. The sadness and pity she's offering Quinn and Puck, the hope she finds in their conversation. Quinn knows what's happening, and there's nothing she can do to stop it.

"I'm so sorry," she blurts out the moment Ms. Corcoran leaves them.

Puck looks at her and tries not to frown. "It's your choice."

"It's not that I don't want her. Of course I want her, Puck. I want her more than you know. I want to watch her play with your guitar and throw a pom pom in the air. I want to watch her when she takes her first steps. I want to watch her grow. I want to watch her join glee and win nationals. And I'm so, _so_ sorry that I can't. That we can't. Because she's too perfect and pretty and fragile, and I'm so afraid we'll ruin her."

She's staring so desperately through the glass; her heart is shattering.

"I can't hurt her like that, Puck. I just can't. And I'm so sorry because I know how badly you want to keep her, but I have to protect her from us." Her voice is shaking, and she's replacing her dry tears with new ones. "It's not right. She needs a real family, and no matter how much we want to be, we're not enough for her. She needs more." Quinn hiccups a little bit, her eyes blurry from the unshed tears. "Maybe one day in the future. Maybe we won't be together, but we'll be older and wiser. Maybe then... I'm so sorry, Puck. I'm _so sorry_."

She's sobbing now, and all she wants is for him to yell at her. To tell her she's being selfish and stupid, and that this whole mess is her fault. She needs to hear it from _someone_, and Quinn thinks Puck is the only person who can do it.

But instead, she finds her sobs muffled by his gold tie from his glee costume, and her whole body is constricted by the warmth of his arms. He kisses the top of her head and mumbles soft things she can't hear, and this makes her sob even louder.

Time keeps moving.

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**Did anyone else think for a brief second they were going to keep the baby? I was honestly on the edge of my seat sweating buckets! Thanks for reading! Currently not taking requests, but I'll let you know when they're open. :)**


	46. Shadows

_Wow. Three hundred reviews! I can't even begin to explain how amazed I am. Thank you guys so much for all the comments and critique! I really do take everything to heart, and I appreciate all your feedback immensely! I would also like to thank **emilyforprez** who has reviewed every single drabble I've had so far. What a wonderful reviewer, as well as a phenomenal writer! This drabble is dedicated to you! Also, for anyone who has been offended, I did take down my Puck story titled "Seven." My reason was simple: I never saw myself completing or updating the story at all, and I didn't want to keep anyone's hopes up, so I deleted it. Never fear - I'm working on a new project (along with the AU Sailor Moon fic) that I'm sure you all will enjoy - hopefully. It shall be - surprise, surprise - Quinn centric, with a very magical twist. That's all I'm saying for now! Now, onto the drabble. Takes place anywhere between Bad Reputation to Theatricality. Quinn and some certain comrades are taking on very familiar alter-egos..._

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**Shadows**_  
_

"Do you want to do something fun? Do you want to go to Taco Bell?"

"I can't _go_ to Taco Bell, Brittany, I'm _pregnant_!"

"Oh. You know who was looking so hot at last night's basketball game? Kurt Hummel."

"I'm gay, Britt."

"But you have gay people, and then you have _gay_ people."

"No, sweetheart," Quinn shakes her head.

"That's not right, huh?"

"No. So not right."

"Hey, Quinn, isn't this your old Burn Book?"

"Oh my God, I haven't seen that in _forever_. Read it out loud!"

"Jacob Ben Israel hides puppies in his Jew-fro," Kurt reads.

"Still true."

"Dave Karofsky is a fat virgin."

"Still half-true."

"Kurt Hummel is too gay to function," Brittany smiles.

"Sorry," Quinn shrugs.

Kurt snatches the book. "'Rachel Berry is the nastiest skank bitch I've ever met. Do not trust her. She is a fugly slut.' Real original, Quinn. You know, I heard her and Jesse hook up in the auditorium almost every day before glee practice. But, of course, I've never told anyone because I'm _such_ a good friend."

Brittany tilts her head.

"I can't help it if everyone likes me so much," Kurt shrugs. "By the way, Quinn, we need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"You're wearing sweatpants. It's a Monday."

"_So_?"

"So, it's against the rules, and you can't sit with us," Britt points out.

"Whatever. Those rules aren't real it."

"It was real that day I wore a vest!"

"Because that vest was disgusting!"

"_You can't sit with us_!" Kurt snaps.

"Sweatpants are all that fit me right now... Fine. You all can walk home, bitches!"

Suddenly, Quinn jumps up, little sweat beads tracing her forehead. Brittany is sprawled on the carpet floor, fast asleep with a bag of popcorn cradled in her arms. Kurt reclines tiredly in his arm chair, his eyes slowly fluttering open. Quinn breathes heavily as she glances at the glaring TV screen breaking through the darkness of Kurt's basement. Cady, Karen, Gretchen, and Regina are dancing to Jingle Bell Rock, and Quinn blinks her eyes to further make out the screen.

She catches Kurt staring at her, a quizzical look on his face. He mouths _'Are you okay?' _and she nods back sheepishly, leaning back against the couch. Kurt does so as well, and they both fall asleep to Gretchen's rant about Caesar.

Suddenly, her face transfigures into Kurt's, and Quinn should really stop falling asleep to _Mean Girls_.

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**Crossover crack!drabble. Just because someone pointed out to me Quinn = Regina, Kurt = Gretchen, and Brittany = Karen, and I nearly died laughing. Just some light humor! Comments would be greatly appreciated, and if you have any questions/concerns about this fic or my other upcoming ones, feel free to inbox me! Have a magical day!**


	47. Blanket

_Set after "Hell-O." Quinn has some unfinished business with a certain Finn Hudson._

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**Blanket**_  
_

Quinn bites her lip, her arms folded nervously behind her back. The hallways are getting more crowded, and she leans against the lockers to avoid any accidental contact with her baby bump. She shields her stomach, just in case, putting her free arm protectively in front.

Either way, nobody really notices her.

It's a funny feeling, she thinks nostalgically, how the roles have switched. How she was the girl everyone looked for, and now her life has been pushed against the walls, watching painfully from the outside.

But then she sees Tina rolling Artie down the hallway, and as they past her, they send genuine smiles. Quinn finds herself smiling back, and maybe the outside is different, but at least it's not lonely.

"Quinn?"

She turns her head, and there he is, the signature clueless look suffocating his face. Her smile falters slightly, only because a more guilty one takes it's place. Quinn removes her head from her stomach and returns it behind her back, and she refrains from biting her lip again. "Hi Finn."

"I'm... This is my locker, right?" He turns around quickly, scanning the location.

"Yes, this is your locker." Quinn finally finds her smile again, recovering from her initial anxiety. "I hope you don't mind. I was just looking to talk."

"Oh." He looks at her, as if it's all a prank, but he shrugs his shoulders anyways and nods his head quietly. "Yeah, okay."

"I just, I wanted to make sure..." And then Quinn realizes how public this is, and suddenly, her nerves come crashing back and she remembers everything from "I'm Pregnant" to "It's Puck's". She thinks that after everything they've been through, they deserve at least one private moment, and as a group of Cheerios giggle past them, Quinn knows now is not the right time. She shakes her head quickly, a tiny smile escaping. "I'm sorry. I..." Suddenly, she remembers what's she holding, and it becomes significantly heavier in her hands. "Here."

Finn looks down as Quinn pushes her left hand towards him, new determination evident on her face. "It's - "

"It's McGeeGee. Your blanket." She shakes her hand a bit, exposing more of the little blue baby blanket. "I thought you'd want it back after, you know..."

"Yeah, I know." They both smile awkwardly at each other, and Finn starts to reach out for the blanket. "I thought it was such a good idea to give it to the baby. We don't have any family heirlooms, but I thought this would have been a really good gift, you know? And when you told me about the baby, my mind immediately went to McGeeGee and how my dad gave it to me and now I could give it to..." He stares at her suddenly, as if he doesn't know whether he should start yelling or crying or both. But then he just slings his backpack over his shoulder and retreats his hand. "Keep it."

Quinn's eyes widen. "What? No, Finn, I can't."

"No, keep it."

"It was your dad's."

"And now it's hers." He motions towards her stomach, frustration evident in his voice.

Quinn rolls back on her heels, furrowing her brow. "I can't keep this Finn. It wouldn't be right."

"A lot of this situation isn't right, Quinn, but giving the baby my blanket is. It's fine. She'll always be... well, she'll always be the baby I wanted to give McGeeGee to." He makes one final nod, and the moment suspends for a minute before he turns to walk away.

"Thank you, Finn." She can see his body tense a bit, and she knows he heard her. But he keeps his distance and continues walking, and Quinn turns around as well, thoughtfully cradling McGeeGee in her hands.

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**My attempt at some angsty Finn/Quinn, but it ended up being much sweeter since angsty!Finn doesn't really work in my mind! :) Thanks for reading!**


	48. Winners and Losers

_Trying to update twice a week now! :) Set Pre-Pilot. A character study: Quinn's a bitch._

_

* * *

_**Winners and Losers**_  
_

Quinn's a bitch, but she doesn't really care because everyone's too afraid to say it to her face.

That's how she gets away with a lot of things.

As long as she believes everyone is inferior to her, they seem to feel the same way and follow accordingly. It's a little trick she learned on her own, and she'd be a damn fool if she didn't put it to good use. She mostly practices it on underclassmen or losers with no names. When all else fails, Rachel Berry usually ends up being her go-to target because she's like one of those abandoned kitties at the animal shelter that just want to be loved.

Quinn would be an even bigger fool if she didn't take advantage of that.

And so she's a bitch.

Who wants to be a loser when they can be a winner?

Part of her feels like she should go easy once and while, but she likes her edge and she would throw a fucking fit if she ever lost it. It would be if like Garfield stopped being fat. And even though she's watched enough teen flick movies to understand the popular girl cliché of being secretly self-conscious, Quinn just simply likes to throw insults around, insecurity or not. It should scare most people, and frankly, it does, but no one says anything, and so she carries on.

She manipulates, she bribes, she _scandalizes_. All in the day's work of a queen bee.

And so what if everyone actually kinda hates her? As long as someone is fetching her water every time she's thirsty, she's still the fucking queen, and no one can argue with that.

(But Queen Anne used to do the same thing, and then she said, _**"**O Death, rock me asleep, bring me to quiet rest, let pass my weary guiltless ghost out of my careful breast.**" **_And then her head was cut off.

And then being a bitch wasn't so fun after that.)

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**Pointless drabble, but character reflections are fun! Thanks for reading; reviews would be beautiful!**


	49. Civilization

_Well hello! I've finally gotten around to publishing my stories! I'll use this space to update, shall I? If anyone is a **One Tree Hill** fan, I_'_ve published a oneshot called "there is a light that never goes out." I also posted a new angsty!Quinn/Puck oneshot titled "she doesn't wear any wings." If you would kindly check those out and offer your critique, I would be so thankful indeed! _

_Now, more importantly, I have finally posted the intro to my new multi-chapter story: **"Quinn in Wonderland."** It's exactly what it sounds like: a retelling of Alice in Wonderland through the eyes of Quinn Fabray... with my own dash of dangerous and surprising twists added into the mix. :) And don't worry my Quick fans! The story will have much Quinn/Puck, as well as some Artie/Tina, Rachel/Finn, Emma/Will, and even a little Quinn/Finn and Rachel/Puck for those who fancy that sort of thing. Besides "Say a Little Prayer", this going to be my next huge project. To give an estimate, only four chapters is already forty eight pages long! Woo! I plan on having it be really epic, and if you could read and review it, I would be forever grateful! _

_And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my drabble promise! One or two drabbles per week, yes? Yes! This one takes place during "Laryngitis." Puck thinks Super Mario Bros changed civilization; Quinn wants to know why._

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_**Civilization**_  
_

"Puck, I'm not playing Super Mario Brothers with you again."

"Why not?" he whines.

"Because we played it for like five hours last night!"

"And wasn't it fun?"

"No!"

"But there's all that color and shit! Don't girls like that?"

"There's nothing appealing about a fat Italian plumber punching stars and stepping on mushrooms."

"You've got the whole wrong idea!" He throws up his arms in exasperation.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Enlighten me. What is so _deep_ about that pudgy little man?"

"_Mario_," he emphasizes, "is a fucking plumber. So he's like, this short little fat guy and now he has to be this superhero, which no one really expects of him. And he's got a brother, who's like, way taller and skinner than Mario and probably gets more ass, but Mario is still the main character cause Luigi is a fucking coward and can't do anything without his brother. So Mario is always the one saving the world while Luigi and that dinosaur thing and the mushroom baby follow along. And he's the one who gets to save Princess Peach, and even though in the Super Mario Bro world Luigi would have probably been the better choice, Princess Peach always choses Mario instead. In every single version."

They stare at each other for a bit.

Suddenly, Quinn leans in a kisses him on the cheek. "You're an idiot," she says briskly and walks out of the room. Puck doesn't move for a long time.

But now she knows why he likes Super Mario Brothers so much.

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**Some cute Quick fluff. :) And when Quinn said that line to Mercedes, I just had to write something about it. Also, once again, please check out "Quinn in Wonderland" if you have the time! Thanks for reading.**


	50. Tongue Tied

_Wow, I'm halfway done with this series. I can't believe it! Now another 50 to go. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me thus far! You all are amazing! Also, thanks again to everyone who checked out **"Quinn in Wonderland"**! The newest chapter is up, so be sure to read it and leave a review! :) Now onto the drabble. Takes place after "Theatricality". I've never really been into Faberry stuff, but after writing this, I totally get the appeal. Anyways, Quinn tries to comfort Rachel after the Shelby Corcoran drama... kind of._

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_**Tongue-Tied**_  
_

It's a little weird that they don't talk about it, even though they really should. It's one of those things that could share a tub of ice cream over and watch _Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_ until they fall asleep. They would cry (because they are both actually cry babies) and then they would hug (because they are also both secretly affectionate), and this would all eventually lead to another double scoop of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough Ice Cream.

But she's Rachel Berry and she's Quinn Fabray, and they just don't do that sort of thing.

And maybe they could do that sort of thing if one of them wasn't so stubborn (Quinn) and the other wasn't so emotional (Rachel). Because the truth is, they both have too many issues and not enough friends, and if they weren't so preoccupied with their pride, they could potentially see past that and help each other.

But when you insert Quinn's stubbornness and Rachel's emotion, the line of friendship subsequently blurs.

So it's an odd day when Quinn enters the choir room to talk to Mr. Schue but finds Rachel Berry sitting there instead.

Her hands absently float above the piano keys while her eyes staring dully at nothing but space. Her earphones are plugged into her bright pink iPod, but she still notices Quinn's subtle entrance. Perhaps she's ignoring her or perhaps she's too dazed to speak, but Rachel remains quiet.

Quinn does so as well.

It's not like they have anything they have to say to each other (even though they really do), and it's not like they have anything in common (even though Rachel was abandoned and so will Quinn's daughter). It's not like Rachel needs anyone (even though her birth mother told her they shouldn't see each other anymore and Jesse betrayed her), and it's not like Quinn needs anyone either (even though Puck's an idiot and she's basically a nomad).

So maybe it's the silence. Maybe it's the hormones or the choir room or the fact that glee has now become a metaphor for "getting through things _together_", but Quinn plops herself down right next to Rachel on the piano stool.

She sees Rachel tense up slightly (old habit), and Quinn can't help but feel nostalgic by what her presence does to this poor girl (old habit). Still, it puzzles Quinn that despite all the complications attacking her life, everything feels so simple when she sits in front of the piano next to Rachel and her iPod. She weighs the options and wonders if it's because they're both so messed up now, there's really no just way to judge the other. This is what I feels like to be at the bottom, the universe scolds them, and they've got no where else to go but the choir room.

Quinn's not sure how long she should sit there, but everything is so gentle right now that even the cruelest part of her is begging her not to mess anything up.

And suddenly, Rachel turns to her, and a gradual smile creeps on her face as she hands Quinn one of her earphones. She takes it with a minor hint of hesitation, but as she slips it into her ear, the sound of Celine Dion fills up her world. She rolls her eyes a bit because it's _so_ Rachel Berry, but at the same time, it feels nice having someone else do the talking for you.

_What do you say to taking chances?_

_What do you say about jumping off the edge?_

Quinn closes her eyes as Rachel leans her head against the piano.

It feels nice when you're not so alone.

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**And then they made out. Just kidding, I wouldn't do that. Reviews are like slip'n'slide on a hot summer day! Also, don't forget to check out _"Quinn in Wonderland"_! Have a splendid day!**


	51. Chained

_Quinn's feelings on Santana and Brittany - she knows a little more than she lets on._

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**Chained**

Quinn's always noticed.

She's certain it started even before glee.

She doesn't say anything about it because she'd rather not discuss it, and if word got out and her parents knew, Quinn would have to find new henchmen and she's perfectly satisfied with the ones she has now. So she tells herself she's doing the right thing when she pretends to ignore their little glances or giggles – it's all to maintain her image (kind of like how they joined Celibacy Club). Their friendship is an exchange of mutual pretenses.

She can't pinpoint when, exactly, but she knows there was a turning point. Santana nearly rips off Karofsky's head when he calls Brittany a slut.

Quinn may have gone from top dog to social mulch in the matter of seconds, but it doesn't stop her from noticing things.

Santana and Brittany leaving school together.

Santana and Brittany coming to school together.

The confusion on Brittany's face when Santana fights with Mercedes over Puck.

The anger Santana seethes when Brittany tells her about her perfect record.

It's all just a little more than pinky-holding.

Quinn's always noticed. And for all the shit Santana's tried to pull on her, she could say something. She should say something. Coach Sylvester would pick a Juno over a sneaky gay for Cheerios captain any day, and all Quinn has to do is say the word. Spill the beans, and everything is hers again.

But just because Quinn notices things, doesn't mean she has to say anything.

Because if she had to spill the beans, then she would also have to mention how much nicer Santana is when Brittany holds her hand or how Brittany lights up whenever Santana reveals her rare smile. Quinn knows a little too well what it's like having no control over who you fall for, and even though they're not exactly best friends anymore, they're still teammates.

Besides, they kept the news of her pregnancy from Coach Sylvester for as long as they could, so it's only fair for her to do the same about them. Because even though she finds it really disturbing that her two ex-best girl friends are _fornicating_, their love is like hearing the first line of her favorite song on the radio; Quinn couldn't mess it up even if she tried, and she'll wait in silence until everyone figures it out and she'll flash them all her "I called it" smile.

It's their little secret, Quinn notices, and for now, it's her secret, too.

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**I like this one a lot, just because Quinn's no dummy and she's had to notice this way before hand. Reviews are like eating a spoon of nutella - delicious! Please continue to check out and review _"Quinn in Wonderland" _if you have the time!**


	52. Closer

_Some of that Mercedes/Quinn friendship I promised early on. Takes place after "Funk" and before "Journey." Quinn makes a promise to Mercedes, much to her chagrin._

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* * *

_**Closer**_  
_

"I'm going to set you up on a date."

"I can't wait until you have this baby already so we can cease fire on all your crazy talk."

"I'm serious, Mercedes!" Quinn laughed. They were sitting on the couch of the Jones' living room and watching reruns of _Sex and the City_. Both were munching on bowls of pesto pasta, but Quinn had a bottle of Tabasco sauce and a pint of strawberry ice cream to accompany it.

"Your cravings are what's serious. How you convince me to go with you to the supermarket to buy pickles and peanut butter every time, I'll never know."

"And cottage cheese," Quinn reminded her. "And you changed the subject! Back to what I was saying, I'm definitely finding you the perfect guy to date."

"Is that so?" Mercedes raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Cause last time I checked, Trey Songz did not go to our school."

"You just wait and see," she sang, lifting a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"You do realize you just ate ice cream and pasta at the same time, right? You understand if you do that in public, I can't be seen with you?"

"What color eyes do you prefer?" Quinn raised her spoon to her chin.

Mercedes sighed loudly and shook her head. "Look, I don't want - "

"And on a scale of one to ten, how important is height to you?"

"What is with this sudden need to find me a boy?" Mercedes demanded, snapping Quinn back to the living room.

"I already screwed you over with two relationships. Now that we're friends, third time's the charm," Quinn shrugged honestly as she poured the hot sauce over her pasta.

"What are you even talking about? I swear, you're so crazy sometimes."

"Kurt? Remember when I made you throw yourself onto him?" Quinn raised her eyebrows. "And Puck? I don't even know why I allowed it in the first place. That was just a mess – for the both of us."

As Quinn watched Mercedes mull over her past experiences, she felt a pang of guilt throb her chest. She knew that after everything Mercedes had done for her, including extending a hand of friendship and placing a roof over her head, she had to find a way to pay her back. It would only be a matter of a time before Quinn climbed back up the social ladder of McKinley, and once she did, she'd have the sea of teenage boys open for Mercedes' choosing.

"All right, here's the thing," Mercedes began, and Quinn let out a small smile. "You better take notes because I'm not repeating this. I don't like them skinny or lanky. They need some muscle on them, no question. Can't have them short or they'll be too intimidated. Nice smile is a must, and same goes for the eyes. He needs to be respectable and a gentleman, and he better know how to make me laugh. Plus, he needs to know how to dress himself. It's already an issue that I've been seen with you and your damn sundresses in every single color. And don't even think of suggesting a boy who can't serenade me with an Usher song."

Quinn smiled smugly and leaned back into the sofa. "Noted," she said simply, and the duo continued to watch TV.

"And Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Anything for a friend."

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**They are adorable. Remember to check out _"Quinn in Wonderland"_! Leave a review if you have the time, por favor!**


	53. Sheltered

_Takes place whenever the hell Quinn starts living with Puck (thanks writer's for making that so clear... I'm not bitter). Quinn brutally analyzes her current living situation - an honest look at the beginning of the Fabray/Puckerman household._

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_**Sheltered**_  
_

They could be like a really weird sitcom.

Except not funny.

They've gotten into this routine over the past few days, and it irritates and relaxes her at the same time. Mrs. Puckerman is always too early for breakfast and too late for dinner, but she manages to come home just in time for _Roseanne_, and they all end up watching the show together. It's sick and wrong, but Quinn's grown used to it and she's not sure how she'd react if things went another way.

Puck's sister is weird, but she doesn't expect anything less. Some days she's completely enthralled by Quinn and demands her to teach her the ways of feminism. Some days she forgets she's even there and makes crude Christian jokes. She's funny sometimes, Quinn admits, even adorable, but she's been avoiding children as much as possible these days and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Puckerman is hardly there enough for an actual relationship to form, but what they already have is awkward, tense, and oddly understanding. Sometimes, during _Roseanne_, Quinn thinks she's glaring at her, while other times it looks like she's going to cry. It's worse when she seems like she wants to say something her, maybe even embark on some girl talk, but it actually hasn't happened... yet. (She still won't buy her bacon.)

Puck's probably the worst. He was never the type of guy to show some manners, even when the circumstances became having his baby mama live in his house because she lied to everyone that it wasn't his. But maybe there's something gentlemanly about him offering his home, but Quinn brushes it off all the time because Puck and gentleman just don't go together.

But sometimes he does weird stuff that almost seems sweet.

Quinn can't function without having Frosted Flakes dipped in sour cream, so to stop her from complaining, Puck drives down to 7/11 at two in the morning and buys her the snacks so she can shut the hell up.

She doesn't understand what's the big deal about Grand Theft Auto, but he eventually forces her to play. She secretly starts to get the hang of it, but every time she almost gets killed, he takes the controller away and shoots all the police man so she won't start crying and get all hormonal and moody.

And even though Rachel and Finn still get all the leads in glee, sometimes, he pulls out his guitar when they're suppose to be doing homework, and they've done an acoustic rendition of every song from "Just Dance" to "I Want it That Way" to "Buy U a Drank."

They have this weird thing where they're together but not together, but they also don't talk about it because Puck and Quinn just _don't talk about their feelings_ and especially not to each other. So he deals with her psychotic cravings and bitchiness, and she deals with mind-numbing video games and stupidity. And somehow, it works out, and while they wouldn't call it a relationship, they wouldn't call it nothing either. But what she does know is that she feels safer in his house than she did her own and that very thought numbs her.

The whole family is like a really twisted version of _Full House_, but Quinn uses the term "family" very loosely because that would make her part of them. Sometimes she wants to scream and cry because being pregnant makes her feel fat and crazy, and it's just so easy to blame it on the Puckermans.

But every day, when they all settle down to watch _Roseanne_, Quinn wishes it was an hour long show instead of 30 minutes.

But only an hour because anything else would be overkill.

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**A bit dark, partially because I'm still angry that we never got to actually see them living together. It makes me sad how Back9!Quick was so shunned. Anyways, review if you have the time! Have a splendid day!**


	54. Butterflies

_I knew I wasn't the only one who was upset about Quinn basically being shrugged off throughout the whole Back Nine. I'm shaking my fist at you, writers! On a completely different note, I want to give a shout out to **cuzifeellikeit**, **GentleReader**, **wee birdy**, and _ _for consistently leaving me some of the sweetest, most encouraging reviews ever! If it wasn't for you guys, I'd probably only update about once a month! So thank you guys so much, as well to the rest of you readers and reviewers of this series! I truly appreciate it! Anyways, onto the drabble. Quinn assumes things, then unknowingly lives them. Inside the mind of seven-year-old Q._

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**Butterflies**_  
_

Quinn likes butterflies. She thinks she could have been one.

But when she tells her parents, they scold her and force her never to say such a thing again. (Christians don't believe in reincarnation.)

So even though she's not supposed to believe in it, it still doesn't stop her from chasing them around the playground. She doesn't tell anybody and she probably never will, but her stomach flutters every time she sees one; she giggles and laughs and follows it through the sky, pointing her finger and tracing its path.

Quinn knows a little more than she lets on.

She knows the color of its wings. Not just the purple and the orange. She knows the entire spectrum of its sadness. She knows the vivid rainbow of its anger. It's a multitude of facades and iridescence that takes her to the edge and leaves her dangling there.

Then she learns that they don't start out as butterflies. They begin as caterpillars, and her face shatters because they're so much _uglier_. Quinn doesn't like butterflies too much after that because who wants to start out so _ugly_? It's a transformation, her second grade teacher tells her, but by that time, she's lost interest. She doesn't have enough patience to deal with a creature who takes a good amount of its lifetime to grow into something more beautiful.

But that's like saying _hey pot, kettle's calling._

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**Thanks for reading! Review if you can, please.**_  
_


	55. Letters

_An emotional piece. Don't say I didn't warn you! Takes place after the birth of Beth during "Journey". Quinn leaves her daughter a letter.  
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**Letters**_  
_

Dear Beth,

There are so many things I want to tell you, and I'm so sorry it has to be through this. It's impersonal and ridiculous, but since there's no other way, I guess it'll do for now. There are just some things you need to know, and when you're old enough to read this, maybe we can finally talk about it face to face.

You don't know this, but I used to talk to you a lot.

When nobody was home, I used to lie down on my bed and speak to you for two, even three hours straight. Whether it was at my house or Finn's or your dad's or Mercedes (I was kind of homeless for awhile), it didn't matter how lonely I felt. Everything else just seemed to disappear and it would be just you and me, and that was all that mattered.

I would hold you and cradle you and whisper to you little secrets. I didn't like doing this so much in the beginning, but after awhile, it became my favorite thing to do. I would tell you I wouldn't care what you decided to do with your life, whether you wanted to be a singer or a scientist or a poet or a dancer, you would still be loved all the same. Even if takes you a little longer to find yourself and find your niche, I tell you everything will be okay. I tell you, as much as I can, that this will all turn out okay.

I tell you I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I had to give you away, but it was for the best. You wouldn't be happy with me. I wouldn't be able to take care of you. Even if I tried, you would be miserable and wished that I had given you away. You wouldn't be able to go to a private school or a good college because I wouldn't be able to afford it. We'd basically be homeless, and food would be out of the question. Unless like you like women shelters. I wouldn't be able to be with you a lot because I'd be working all the time, and I wouldn't want to leave you with just anybody. Your father and I are just kids. We don't even know how to love ourselves, let alone a beautiful baby girl.

God, you were the most perfect little baby I had ever seen.

You were so tiny. So _unbelievably_ tiny. Pale skin. Traces of dark blonde hair. You kept your eyes closed most of the time, but they were green when you opened them. Green, just like mine. You had ten fingers. Ten toes. Two legs and two arms. You rested your head gently against my chest, a perfect little bundle depending on my very existence.

You were beautiful. I know all newborn babies look the same, but you were different. You were gorgeous.

The first person to carry you after myself was your father. He looked like he was going to melt. It made everything easier and harder at the same time. For a beautiful hour, we were a family. I kissed you on the forehead and tried to commit your smell to my memory.

In that moment, I promised myself I would find the perfect family for you. They would have a nice house and home-cooked meals every night. They would love good movies and Disneyland, and they would be really happy, so I know you'd be really happy. But the moment I had to give you away, it was the first time I was alone in nine months. Sometimes I feel the ghost of you in my arms, and all I have is the hope that you will never have to feel that kind of pain ever.

I know you won't like me for a long time. I know you'll think I abandoned you. I know you'll wish that I had cared for you enough to keep you, and I'm so sorry. I do care. I do love you. I love you so much, Beth. But I want you to be happy, so I'm giving you the biggest gift I can.

You are going to have two sets of parents. Two sets of people who love you unconditionally. And maybe there will be times that you wish you were with me, and I know there will be many times where I wish the same thing, but I want you to know that even though I'm not your mother, I am still your mom. No one can give that bond away, not even me. So maybe you won't understand this for awhile, and maybe things will get really bad for the both of us, but what does not destroy us will make us stronger. Maybe in the future, we can meet. I'll drive up to see you. I'll look at how big you've gotten, and I'll be amazed by how much we look alike. You'll probably be feisty and unpredictable yet cheerful and compassionate. You'll be the most wonderful person with the brightest smile, and it makes me feel so... complete just thinking about _that_ smile. I can't say that it won't hurt when I think of you, but I still hold onto the hope that you'll be happy. My baby will be happy. In the end, that's all I can really ask for.

One day, we'll both be more experienced and smarter, and hopefully, we won't be so broken. Maybe then, we could marvel at how we've both grown. Maybe then, you'll understand that all this time, I've loved you. Maybe then, we can lie under the night sky and watch the sun rise.

Until then,

Quinn

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**Please review. Check out "Quinn in Wonderland" while you're at it, too. :)  
**


	56. Eating Out

_Quinn and Puck don't go on dates. Takes place during the Back Nine._

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**Eating Out**

It's not a date, even if it feels like one. They're sitting in his truck in the Taco Bell parking lot, scarfing down seven of the $2 meal special.

"My turn," she says. "Jessica Biel or Jessica Alba?"

"Both." She rolls her eyes; so typical. "Uhh... okay... guy from Spiderman or guy from Batman?"

"Which Batman?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," she scolds. "There's, like, four different Batmans."

"I don't give a fuck. Just pick one."

"Fine, if it's the Christian-Bale-Batman, then I pick Batman. But if it's Michael-Keaton-Batman, I pick Spiderman."

He raises an eyebrow. She clears her throat and takes another bite out of her taco. "Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie?"

"Both."

"You can't keep saying that!"

"Why not?"

"It's against the rules."

"This is _my_ game, and rules say you can have both. Now, my turn." He grins mischievously. "Rachel or Santana?"

"You're such a pig."

"C'mon! Rules also say you have to answer the question!"

"I'm not answering that."

"Fabray, I haven't had sex in a month. A _month_. You've got to give me something."

She sighs, and while it should surprise her she feels a little guilty, it doesn't. Puck without sex means he's only half-breathing, so Quinn straightens out her back before heaving a deep sigh. "Both."

Puck's jaw drops.

"And you can throw in Brittany too, if you want."

He licks his lips. She pops a nacho in her mouth. "Rachel or Santana... or me?"

He stares at her for a bit. Then he turns to his burrito and swallows down a manly bite. "Well, I _am_ sitting with you in a Taco Bell parking lot on a Friday night." He glances at her. "Finn or me?"

She leans back in her seat, resting a hand on her stomach. "I _am_ sitting with you on a Friday night, too."

They watch the stars through the window shield.

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**Reviews make my week. I'd love some if you have the time! Have a magical day!**


	57. Admire

_I re-watched "Mattress" the other day and noticed something interesting in a choir room scene: Quinn was in the back, simply reading a book and not paying any attention at all. Unfortunately for her, someone else noticed this as well..._

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**Admire**

Quinn could honestly give a shit about glee's yearbook photo.

So as Mr. Schuester was talking about it to the rest of the club, Quinn absently pulled out a book from her backpack and began reading. The man's determination was only leading to the inevitable: they were all going to get their picture in the yearbook whether they liked it or not. Quinn had accepted it. _Rachel_ certainly had accepted it.

Thus leading to Quinn's obsession to being in the Cheerios picture. It was a baby step to retaining her dignity, and though small it may be, it was still a step.

She had not been paying attention when Mr. Schue delivered the news or when the glee kids hid their collective moan. It wasn't until she saw the approaching cherry red of a Cheerio uniform that Quinn started paying any attention at all.

"What'cha reading?" Brittany asked childishly, tiptoeing casually on her feet.

"Just a book," Quinn dismissed her quickly. She left out the _"What to Expect When You're Expecting"_ part.

"I hate reading books for school," she continued absently. "The worst was 'Tequila Mockingbird'."

"You mean... 'To Kill a Mockingbird'?"

"That's what I said."

Quinn stared at her for a moment before returning to her novel.

"You know, this will be the first yearbook picture I'm in besides the Cheerios picture."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Britt, you're forgetting your normal school picture."

"Oh, I don't get one."

"What?"

"Well, cause, I always forget to put my last name on the paper-slip-thingy, so they never put me in the yearbook." Brittany tilted her head and began walking in a circle, taking steps from heel to toe. "But the Cheerios picture will be more fun. It's like playing 'Where's Waldo'."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Meaning...?"

"I can never find myself at first, so I always have to look really hard, just like when I look for Waldo. In the glee club picture, it'll be easier to find me because everyone is so different." She smiled brightly. "We all stick out."

"Well," Quinn sighed softly. "That's one way to look at it." And as she saw Brittany's smile grow wider, Quinn's did too.

"I'll see you later Quinn! Have fun with your mockingbird!" But before she turned around, she leaned in very close to her blond friend. "Don't tell anyone, but I can speak mockingbird." With that, she bounced out of the choir room and joined Santana by the door.

Quinn watched her in wild amusement before thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was something about Brittany that everyone underestimated.

And in the end, when it came down between glee and Cheerios, Quinn realized her friend was right: being different wasn't entirely so bad.

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**Reviews would be gravy.**


	58. Searching

_Takes place during Sectionals, after the "And I'm Telling You" scene. A conversation that was never shown. Quinn confronts Mr. Schue about baby that was almost his._

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_**Searching**_  
_

It's the elephant in the room, she supposes. Besides the fact that she's a pregnant teen, the father isn't Finn, and his wife (ex?) just set a new bar for crazy.

The whole situation is so screwed up, and she can't help but think that this is really _all her fault_.

"Is something the matter, Quinn?" Mr. Schue asks. She wonders how it's possible that he's still so nice to her after all this mess. She looks around the room and realizes that everyone has already left, and she's still standing there with her hands absently cradling her stomach.

She's screwed up before, she realizes, but not like this. "I'm glad you chose Ms. Pillsbury to take us to Sectionals." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "She was the best choice."

He smiles genuinely at her. "Yeah, I thought so too. She really cares about you guys."

"Yeah..." Quinn trails off. She wants to look at the door and walk straight out the room, but nothing happens. "Do you ever... Do you ever sometimes feel like... When Mrs. Schuester, I mean, Terri, told you she was going to have a baby, did it feel like the whole world just suddenly stood still?"

She sees him tense as he looks down, fighting to maintain his smile. "No," he replies honestly. "As a matter of fact, it felt like everything was moving too fast."

There's a beat as she shifts in her shoes. "I feel like everything is moving in slow motion. Ever since I found out I was pregnant, the whole world just decided to stand still. Like everyone is okay and normal and I'm... I'm just stuck here. I can't keep up, even when I try. And I've been fighting these past few months to be at the same level as everyone else, but it's like I can't even move anymore. I've done so much, just to keep up. I never meant to hurt anyone, everything was just moving _so_ slow." She gasps and knows she said too much. "I'm sorry. Oh my God, I didn't mean to say all that."

But his forehead crinkles as his smile grows softer. "It's okay, Quinn."

"No, it's _not_ okay!" she cuts him off.

"Quinn - "

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue."

"Quinn - "

"I'm so, so sorry."

"_Quinn_," he breathes. "It's okay."

She realizes they're not talking about her word vomit anymore. They stand for a few seconds, and she kind of wants to hug him and he kind of does too, but the space between them is filling up with desperate silence instead. She feels the tears stinging her eyes, and she can tell he's holding back his as well. Finally, she takes a step closer towards the door and smiles sadly. "What are we doing wrong?" She sighs. "Why can't we just be 'happily ever after' people?"

After a moment, he shrugs in defeat. "Maybe we're meant for more than that."

She walks out the room, and there's a fresh breeze against her skin.

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**I guess there's some Will/Quinn if you squint, but I'm more so a fan of their father/daughter-ish relationship. Please review! :)  
**


	59. Plugged

_This prompt is kind of a reach, I know, I'm sorry. Just go with it? Bahaha. A biblical character study, so to speak._

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**Plugged**

She's not the Virgin Mary. She was not born without sin. Quinn Fabray is not a saint.

She's Delilah. Finn is strong, bright-eyed, and hopeful; he thinks he loves her and sacrifices everything, but she cuts him down and destroys the innocence he has left. She walks away and leaves him stranded. Puck is tough and violent, but he turns to putty whenever she's there. She'd be an idiot if she didn't take advantage, so she does. Every. Time.

She's Mary Magdalene. She needs forgiveness for the sins committed, and even when she tries to repent, the world looks down at her and whispers malicious things. But she doesn't say anything and weeps pretty little tears, wishing, hoping, someone would give her just a sliver of pity.

She's Jezebel. She's ruthless, merciless. She's not promiscuous, as so they all thought, but now she's a pregnant teen and her boyfriend is not the father. She's more upset that she can't wear her favorite dress anymore than she is concerned there's a _human_ growing inside of her.

She's Eve. Everything is beautiful, perfect, and flawless. But she sees something she can't have, so naturally, she takes it and now she's broken. Nobody loves the fallen, so she's exiled and shunned and the whole world blames her for their pain.

Quinn Fabray is not a saint. Quinn Fabray is a sinner.

But one day, she'll be an angel.

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**Er.. a tad dramatic? Haha. Please review!**


	60. Fragrant

_Something I noticed during "Somewhere Over the Rainbow": the friendly smiles between Finn and Quinn. What exactly happened there? Dedicated to **Tanookie** who requested a Finn/Quinn ficlet. :) Just some sweet friendship fluff._

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_**Fragrant**_  
_

"I told Rachel I loved her."

Well, that's always an interesting way to start a morning.

Quinn sighs and tries not to rub her forehead, but she does so anyways. Her legs hurt, her body is sore, and her head is on the verge of exploding, but Finn is smiling like she's never seen him smile before. So she smiles back, trying to swallow whatever pride is getting in the way of her being happy for him. That, and if she waits a second too long, she knows she's going to spit out some insult by accident.

"Well," she begins. "Good for you."

"I'm sorry," he says suddenly, and his eyes widen. "That was weird. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

Quinn sighs and shuts her locker. "No. It's fine." She knows Finn has no one else to talk to about this kind of stuff, so she leans against the walls and gestures she's "all ears."

"It's just... I don't know. I kind of just said it. Right before we were about to perform, it sort of just... came out. I didn't even know I was in love with her, but she looked so happy. She hadn't looked that happy in a long time. And I kind of realized... I hadn't be happy in a long time too, you know? And I did some thinking, which was really tough, but I realized I'm happy when she's happy. And I figured these kind of things only happen when you love someone, right?" He pauses. "Am I making any sense?" He gazes at her with expectancy.

"I can't remember the last time you kissed me," she says suddenly. Finn smiles, but it suddenly hits him what she says and it disappears. "I can't remember the last time you told me you loved me." She tilts her head at him. "I feel like I should remember something like that. Don't you?"

"I... sure?"

"I wish I remembered. I want to remember," she thinks whimsically, and then she beams. "I'm glad you told Rachel, Finn. You're good for her, and she's good for you." Her laugh is sad but pretty. "Better than we could have been."

Quinn holds his arm gently and debates whether or not to give him a hug, but at the last minute, she backs away and smiles instead. "I just wish I could remember."

"You were wearing a green dress, I think," he says abruptly. "You had your hair in one of those... twisty things you do. It was that day we went to the park. I remember because you woke me up out of no where, dragged me down stairs, and said that we needed some sun. So we went to the park, and I bought you that ice cream cone. You told me you loved me, and I said I love you back. And then I kissed you and you tasted like vanilla." Her mouth opens, and her eyes are gloss with tears. She stares at him in awe, and he just quirks a smile. "Now... you can remember."

Quinn leans in and hugs him. It's familiar and warm, and now she remembers.

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**D'aww. Their friendship kills me.**


	61. Barren

_Something else I noticed in the "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" scene: apparently, it seems that Kurt and Quinn have grown closer. Here's my own personal contributing scene as to why that is. Takes place after "Theatricality."_

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_****

Barren

"Do you ever feel like you're disappearing?"

She doesn't remember how this happened. All she knows is that Kurt's eyes are red and puffy and so are hers, and the choir room is empty except for the two of them. God _knows_ that every kid in glee has their own share of problems, but right now, Quinn's close to having a _child_ and Kurt's prince charming just called him a fag.

"Do you ever feel like you're disappearing?" he repeats again, softer this time. "Do you ever just feel... invisible? Like, one by one, you're falling away and people don't even remember you're there?"

Quinn's been at the top and she's been at the bottom, but Kurt's been in the dumpster and lower. "All the time," she smiles sadly.

"Yeah?"

He looks a bit surprised and not surprised at the same time. Quinn shrugs lightly. "Yeah."

Kurt leans back in his chair, and the bell rings. A moment of silence grips them, and Quinn finally stands from her seat and grabs her books. She starts walking towards the door, but before she leaves, she turns on her ballet flats and looks at him. "One day, it'll stop," Quinn tells him. "One day, they'll remember."

He gives her one of the blankest looks she's ever seen, but slowly, he starts to smile. "One day soon?"

"No," she shakes her head and walks out the door. "But one day."

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**Sad and bitter, but they need to bond over something, right? Please review! Also, I got my tumblr working again! Link is on my profile. :) Follow me, and I'll follow you!**


	62. Cheating

_Puck confronts Quinn. Quinn isn't too happy about it. Takes place after baby!Drizzle/Beth is consummated._

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_**Cheating**_  
_

She's been avoiding Puck as much as possible these days, but the guy is a fucking magnet to anything in a skirt; they're both drawn together unwillingly.

Their conversations start the same as always: he makes a cocky, borderline rude statement, she spites him, he retaliates, insults are thrown, and there's so much sexual tension that even Artie Abrams glances at them curiously when he rolls by.

But this time is different.

Because when he approaches her this time, there's something different in his stride. Maybe it's because he's seen her naked now, practically _claimed_ her, and she feels so dirty she doesn't even want to look at him.

"So I guess I can't call you Virgin Mary anymore." He corners her after lunch, that signature smug smirk on his face. Quinn has an urge to yank it off.

"Stop moving your lips." She fakes a smile and darts her eyes away, but he moves in front of her before she has time to escape.

"Where are you - "

"Didn't you hear what I said?" she shoots him a death glare. "Get. Away. From. _Me._"

"How is it that your panties are in a bunch? Thought we fixed that."

She slaps him almost instantly. The halls are clear but he's still in shock, and there's no sound but the thundering beat of her heart. "So that's it?" She spits, breaking the deadly silence. "That's it? _'This isn't another hook up for me.'_ So what was I? Revenge? A challenge? The girl you screwed because you're so fucking screwed up yourself?" Quinn doesn't like cussing, but this is the best exception she could ever think of. "Was that what I was?"

He stares at her hard. She can tell he wants to say something, but Quinn's now making it her life goal to keep him from getting anything he wants. "What? Was it like your only personal therapy or something? _Dear Journal, daddy doesn't love me. I'm going to _get_ my best friend's girl drunk and sleep with her because I'm a dead-beat fry cook._" She knows she's gone too far this time, but she can't stop. "Stay out of my life," she threatens, and when she turns around, she swears her pulse has gone overtime.

"You're the girl every guy wants," he frowns reluctantly, and she stops. "The girl that's too good for everyone. The girl that's too good for dead beats with daddy issues. You're _that_ girl."

She holds her breath like she's going to say something, but instead she just shakes her head gives him an icy stare. "Not good enough."

She walks away with his heart.

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**Angst, angst, angst! Please review if you have the time. :)**


	63. Redemption

_Takes place during Bad Reputation. Why does Quinn write the Glist?_

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**Redemption**

Redemption.

The word tastes like ambrosia on her lips.

She wants to smother herself in.

Quinn walks the down the hallways and feels the bruises line up against her arm. The bruises from shoulder bumping, careless pushing, and shoving against the walls that make her ache and sigh. She's stampeded on, tossed aside, and exampled as a disgrace. Why not just give her that scarlet "A" already? Her reign as queen has now ended, and my God, does she know it.

Redemption. The act of deliverance from sin. Atonement from guilt. Rescue. _S__alvation_.

When she says it out loud – _redemption_ – it's in a way she's never heard it before. She feels like a brand new girl. She draws out each letter and lets her tongue twirl around it. It sounds different when other people say it, almost forced and clipped; this is a song only she can sing.

Quinn writes the "Glist" and puts herself right on top.

Redemption.

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**Please review.**


	64. Zeal

_Artie learns the hard way that Quinn's baby hormones make her moody. Takes place during "Journey to Regionals."_

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**Zeal**

_Ouch. Ouch. Ouch._

Quinn cradles her stomach gently, her face tightening a bit as she feels the relentless pounding from inside her stomach. For a second, she starts to doubt the fact that her baby is a girl, but then she remembers who her father is and it all makes sense.

Another vicious kick comes from inside her, and Quinn scrunches her face in slight pain.

"Quinn?" she hears Artie call next to her. "You all right?"

She bites her lip and glares down at him. "Are you _really_ going to ask me that?"

"Er – right," he stutters somewhat, but he doesn't roll his wheelchair forward. "Do you want me to go get Puck?"

"So I can kill him?"

"Or, you know, I'll just stay right here." There's an awkward pause as Artie holds out his arm. "You can squeeze my hand, if you want."

Quinn sighs and places another hand on her stomach. "You really don't want me to do that."

"I can handle it," he smiles up at her.

"I'll crush your fingers into powder," she points out with a raised eyebrow.

Suddenly, sounds of approaching footsteps and chatter maneuver down their hall. As both Quinn and Artie glance up at a gaggle of Vocal Adrenaline's automatons, the whole group quickly notices the duo and starts to snicker loudly.

"Those are the two I'm talking about!" one of the girls whispers. "Like, seriously? Not only do New Directions have a pitchy male lead and horrifying costumes, but they got a cripple and a pregnant girl!" An eruption of laughter bellows out, and before Artie can even begin to shift to an uncomfortable mode, Quinn darts away from him and marches instantly up to the group.

"Listen here you little freaks!" she snaps, and the sounds of squeaky wheels immediately follow from behind her. "I'll have you know that even if Artie's in a wheelchair, he can dance way better than any of you sorry excuses for humanity. And even while _I'm_ eight months pregnant and _with_ child, I still look way better than any of you. And I'm wearing a gold dress and a bump it!" Quinn screeched, and a few Vocal Adrenaline members twitched. "And while I don't have my excellent figure, I can step on every single one of you and smash you like a tiny, helpless, disgusting bugs, you... you little _shits_!" She screams the last word, sounding a bit too much like Puck, and the group scurries away and laughs the moment she's out of earshot.

Quinn pants a bit, her hands on her hips as her shoulders heave up and down. Artie glances up at her, a small smile on his face as he nods approvingly. "Word," he grins, and he holds up his arm as the two share a well-deserved fist bump.

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**I love them. Please let them have a friendship on the show. Please!**


	65. Blush

_Quinn makes a confession. Puck listens. Takes place during "Bad Reputation."_

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**Blush**

"I wrote the Glist."

She watches as Puck shoots his head up from his playstation. Nintendo. Xbox?

Whatever.

He stares at her, his expression naturally stoic and hard. For a moment, Quinn thinks he might actually berate her. And for an even longer moment, she actually kind of _cares_ if he's mad at her. It's not like he doesn't have any reason to be – it's not like the whole freaking glee club has any reason to be. Because of her, there's an unavoidable chance that glee club could very likely shut down (for about the eleventh time this year).

Quinn watches as he sits up a bit, the game controller dangling unconsciously in his right hand, and he knots his eyebrows and frowns slightly. "_You_ put me at number _three_?"

She can't stifle the wave of relief that washes over her. "Be happy I put you higher than Finn," she retorts, but there's a hint of playfulness in her voice.

"Hold up. You were thinking about putting me higher than Pillsbury Doughboy _Finn_? Have you cracked?"

Quinn shrugs her shoulders and lets herself smile a bit. She leans down to snatch one of his nachos, and he attempts to swat her away. There's a small moment where his hand wraps around her wrist, and as she wrangles herself loose, his grip tightens slightly as he looks her in the eye. They remain there, for only a second, before he lets go.

"Are you mad at me for making that video with Berry?"

She flinches slightly. "Why would you care?"

"Well," his face twists in frustration. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Care and shit about each other?" She can't help but smile as he stumbles with his words. "Whatever. You're a chick," he counters. "You say one thing and you always mean another."

"Someone's learning," Quinn smirks, and she fiddles with the ends of her dress. "I'm not _mad_. I just think you're an idiot for doing it."

Puck gives her an offended look. "It's not my fault Rachel has no taste in video making shit. Babe, if you and I made that video, we would have _nailed_ it."

"You think?" she arches an eyebrow amusingly.

He winks. "Without a doubt."

Quinn leans in for another nacho, and this time, he doesn't fight her away. There's a small frame of silence that builds between them, and the electronic voices of Puck's video game fill the air. "Are you mad at me for making the Glist?" she asks quietly.

He gives her a long look before smirking. "No. I get why you did it." Quinn feels a little embarrassed, but he shakes his head and leans forward on his knees. "I just don't get why you should feel ashamed. You're carrying little Puckerman in there. That's a freaking honor!"

She throws the nacho at his face, and he laughs.

And as Quinn walks out of the room, she hears Puck call out to her, "Besides, it makes my girl a badass!"

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**Please Review. **


	66. Electrify

_I always find the unexplored relationship between Jesse St. James and Quinn very... interesting. Let's face it, Quinn's an intelligent, perceptive girl. Would she really be fooled by him? Did he really think he could fool her? So many possibilities that were never poked or prodded. Ah, but that's where the beauty of fanfiction comes in, doesn't it? :) Takes place after Jesse joins New Directions, so somewhere between Power of Madonna and Home. Quinn's a smart girl, and Jesse notices._

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**Electrify**

"You're not here for Rachel, are you?"

She's gazing at Jesse St. James very intently, one perfect eyebrow arched to the sky. Puck's sitting to her left, his arm around her chair as he snickers with Mike and Matt about something called "teabagging." Whatever that means.

Jesse looks back at her with a blank expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I don't care if you're using her," Quinn shrugs somewhat.

"Rachel's my girlfriend," he pronounces each word very clearly, just like the future Broadway star he is. "Why would I ever do that?"

"I'm not dumb," she quips instantly. Her eyes narrow, and so does his. "And if you think I'm not onto you, then you're an idiot. But like I said, I don't care if you're using her. It's when you expose yourself and all of this comes out, I just want you to know that I knew from the beginning that you were playing us." She gives him a satisfied smile. "I'm not stupid, and you should know that."

There's a small beat before he shakes his head. "I think your baby hormones are making you a little crazy."

She rolls her eyes and turns herself back to Puck.

It's not so much that Quinn would actually do anything about Jesse St. James' scheming ways, but more so the fact that she holds his fate in her little hands.

But he knows it.

And Quinn likes it that way.

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**Now that I think of it, scheming Jesse/Quinn could have caused a lot of havoc. Such little relationships always going to waste! Please review!**


	67. Look

_I am really hating the way the writers are handling Quick this season, and that's a bit hard to say since they're not even handling them at all. What's the point of creating such a dynamic couple if they're just going to completely ignored them? Grr. Unhappy! Ryan Murphy, I'm shaking my angry fist at you. You are completely destroying my OTP! :( _

_Anyways, since Quinn in Wonderland is closing in on an end, I have been circling around several thoughts about a new multi-chapter Glee fic. One has to do with retelling season two in the Quick perspective and the another has to do with a grown up version of Quick. If anyone has any interest in either, drop it by in a review or leave me a message on my Tumblr! Thank you, thank you!_

_Onto the drabble. Takes place right after Rachel sings "The Only Exception" in "Britney/Brittany." Puck gives her a look, and Quinn sees it._

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_**Look**

"What the hell was that about?" She corners him the moment Glee practice ends, one hand clutching her books and the other on her hip.

She sees the line on his jaw tense slightly before slamming his locker shut. "The fuck you smoking, Fabary?"

"You _know_ what I'm talking about." Her eyes narrow on him, like a hawk ready for the kill, and she knows he can't escape.

What a wave of emotions, she muses bitterly. Here they are – two seemingly normal people discussing whatever it is normal people talk about. Not that she's avoided him all summer. In the hallways. During Glee practice. Not that she hasn't stared at those green, _green_ eyes as long as she has now for _months_.

"Enlighten me, sweets," he scowls finally, and she sees the anger light his eyes, "cause I have no fucking clue."

"You were looking at me," she hisses.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Yeah?" she breathes, her voice raspy. "'_The Only Exception._' Really? Really, Puck?"

Maybe she's imagining it, but she swears she saw him cringe. "Get over your high horse, princess," he snarls. "Just checking out your baby momma fat."

And there's a beat – because joke or no joke, they haven't spoken about _that_ yet.

If both of them are clamoring for things to say, they do a good job hiding it. "Just don't look at me," she whispers finally, and she can't disguise the pleading in her voice. "Okay? Just... don't look at me like that."

She makes a move to turn around (one step back, no twist of the hips), but finally, he raises his head and matches her eye line. Green on green. Exposed, vulnerable.

"Don't you think I wish I didn't _have_ to look at you?" _So_ green. "I don't want to look at you. I wish... fuck, I wish I didn't _couldn't _look at you." She thinks he might slam his locker, but instead, he ducks his head and turns away. "But I always fucking do, Quinn."

He walks away, and there goes her heart – running at a million miles per second.

She can't look away, either.

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**Please review, and don't forget to drop by your thoughts about my new potential fic! Thanks for reading!**


	68. Soulmates

_How did Rachel rope Quinn into asking Finn out? Or was it Quinn who roped Rachel? Takes place during Brittany/Britney.  
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_**Soulmates**_  
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She sees Rachel eying her throughout Glee. It's not a big deal because who _doesn't_ look at her, but even though Rachel is a freak, this is getting a bit out of hand.

Quinn plans on confronting once class ends, but ever so the prompt one, Rachel reaches her the moment she steps out of the doorway.

"Hi!"

Oh god, the _cheeriness_.

Quinn squints slightly and tries not to directly look at Berry's smile. "What do you want?" she sighs, because when Rachel Berry willingly talks to Quinn Fabray she is either A) trying to prove some elaborate point about Bernadette Fucking Peters or B) wants something.

"O-Oh," Rachel stammers somewhat, her eyes growing large as saucers. "No, no I don't want anything, I was just… wondering how you are, Quinn."

She raises an eyebrow - perfectly arched, perfectly practiced. "I'm fine," Quinn cuts briefly and makes a move towards the hallways.

It doesn't surprise her when she hears the sound of shiny Mary Janes after her trail. "Because I've taken note that you've become noticeably quieter during glee, and it is my job as captain to make sure everybody feels like they are in a safe and welcoming environment - " Quinn lets out a snort, but Rachel doesn't notice this (or chooses to ignore). "It seems that you are growing distant, and I just want to make sure you're okay, especially after the year you've had…"

"Stop," Quinn addresses sternly, and Rachel obliges. "I'm going to do you a favor and pretend you did not just talk to me like you _know_ me, and you are going to turn around, walk away, and leave me alone. Got it - "

"I think Finn is still in love with you!" Rachel blurts, and her hand flies up to her mouth in a static array.

Quinn spots the row of lockers across the hall and imagines herself banging her head in them. "Excuse me?"

"Sometimes, I just think I'm not enough for him. He wants so badly to have it all, you know? Football and glee. Popularity and… a-and _me_. That doesn't always mix. He doesn't see it now, but when he does, he's going to have to chose and… I just can't lose him! Oh my goodness, I just can't. Then he'll remember how much easier it was with you, head cheerleader Quinn Fabray, and maybe he sees it already and - "

"Okay, stop talking," Quinn raises a palm, interrupting her for the 103757th time today. "Finn is not in love with me. I am not in love with Finn. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Maybe not now…"

"Rachel, he had feelings for you while he was with me. Do you not understand that?" she lets out an exasperated sigh and shakes her head. "He loves you. So what if maybe I don't care for you that much? We need one couple that works. We need one couple to look up to, at least one couple to make me, I mean us - _us_, believe that true love still actually exists." She lets out a little huff and watches Rachel's eyes droop.

And there's a moment where she wants to take it back, but she just can't. Artie and Tina. Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury. Her mom and dad.

Finn and Rachel are the only functioning couple left, and as sick and twisted as it sounds, Quinn's going to hang onto that until she can find it in herself to form her own stable relationship.

"Do you think," Rachel breathes quietly. "Do you think you can do me a favor?" Quinn lowers her eyebrow. There's a beat before Rachel continues. "I just want to make sure you're right about Finn and me. Do you think you can talk to him for me? I-I have something in mind, that you can say. I'd really appreciate it, Quinn."

And so help her God, she suddenly sees twenty years into the future and Finn and Rachel holding hands with their freakishly tall and freakishly tiny children in front of a white porch.

There's something about that (and she can't for the life of her explain why) that makes her smile. Just a tiny bit.

"Fine. What do you want me to say?"

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**Please review! I have a lot of Quick drabbles coming up! :)**


	69. Heels

Someone still notices her. She pretends he doesn't. Takes place before Carole and Burt's wedding in _Furt_.

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**Heels**

She grabs hold of the door frame, one hand grasping the wooden panel and the other adjusting the strap of her silver heel. She bends over slightly, doing her best to balance on one sole shoe while she watches as the rest of the Glee Club scatters out of the room and towards the entrance of the church. Quinn huffs slightly, finally sticking her heel back in as she blows the blond wisps out of her face and back to its neat half-updo.

She glances around her for a millisecond and contemplates nostalgically. Church, the word hums in her mind. It's always so peaceful here.

The sound of rough chuckling catches her attention as she turns around, eyes a bit a blaze as she dissects the noise; the syllables around the laughter; the catch in the throat.

She circles around his frame before staring him straight in the eyes, the sound of his laughter still echoing against the church walls. "What?" she demands after her second. Her voice sharp and quick.

Like a kiss.

Puck doesn't say anything, just stands there with a small smirk and suppressed laughter. "What? What are you laughing at?"

"You look nice," he says simply, stuffing his hands into his pockets. There is no flashy smile, no bright white teeth peeking through because she doesn't need it. He tells her she looks nice, and she honestly believes him.

But Quinn doesn't do anything to acknowledge him. She stifles her look and turns around on her newly fixed heel, and it's when she makes a move to walk away that she hears him.

"Stop ignoring me."

It's like a hand on her heart tugging her back as she runs away and takes his world with him.

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**Thanks for reading!**


	70. Cup

There was a second confrontation between Puck and Quinn at Rachel's party. Sometimes memories stick, and sometimes they hit you like a train. Takes place during _Blame it on the Alcohol._

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**Cup**

There are somethings that don't faze you. They happen, and you move on. Like getting a B on a math test.

Or having a baby with Noah Puckerman.

She doesn't really get why it's different now. She doesn't really understand how it just _hits_ her like this. But she has an empty shot glass in one hand, and she feels his eyes on her (it's the way she twist her wrist when she slams it in on the table), and there's something _off_ about being surrounded by unopened wine coolers and him not offering a single one to her.

So she snaps.

_Don't you want me baby._

Something about her being sprawled underneath him, their eyelashes catching and his hands fumbling over her in a way that was too careful to be from_ Noah Puckerman_. Something about the taste of cheap wine coolers, the dew from her open window, and the feel of his sweaty skin. Something about _especially now._

"You," she confronts him again, a finger lifted. She pokes him hard in the chest, and he leans back as she stumbles messily forward. "_You_."

Drunk or sober, it still takes him awhile to register that she's talking to him. He gives her blank look before uttering, "Me?"

And he says it a way with eyes slightly squinted, breath a little heavy that reads, _no one ever chooses me_.

Her breath hitches as she hears the background noise shattering against her brain. "No," she croaks. "No, _we_. You and I..." She tastes wine coolers. Smells the dew. Feels his skin on hers. "_We_ had a baby together."

His eyes darken, his grip around his red cup tenses, and then gradually, it softens.

And he stares at her in the kind of way that looks something like love if they handled it carefully enough.

She takes two stumbles back before turning around and walking away, letting her cup clatter against the carpet floor. The beat of the music grinds her temples, and she smells wine coolers. Wine coolers, wine coolers, wine coolers.

_Don't you want me now._

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**Thank you for reading! Review if you have the time, please!  
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